


'Til Death (Do Us Part)

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Reverb 2016, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lord Death handed Stein a cloak and a scythe and told him to substitute as a God until he healed to full strength, Stein didn't expect that part of said substitution would include running off after a malicious rogue Goddess, Medusa, hell-bent on causing havoc in the mortal and immortal realms, both. Now, paired up with his opposite, Mother Nature/Tinkerbell wannabe/Walking Sunflower/Goddess of Life Marie, who he is ABSOLUTELY not developing feelings or a heart murmur for, they find their way among the humans to maintain balance and keep the world from falling to shreds. Or, at least, they try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stein had been tuning Spirit out for the past thirteen minutes as the man ranted on and on about how attractive last night’s lay was. And, being friends with the man for so long meant that Stein was well accustomed to staring forward and focusing on perfecting his skull shaped smoke rings as Spirit went on about attributes Stein was decidedly not interested in. Such as an ass to waist ratio. And the way the dude he slept with last night smelled like pine soap and Spirit was, evidently, not about that.

Slowly, Stein sucked in a deep breath of his cigarette, letting it fill his lungs, holding the smoke in whilst glancing around the room. He didn’t know how he kept getting stuck with Spirit, time and time again, when he decided to go on smoke breaks, but, he supposed, with little else to do in the world of the immortal, Spirit was just trying to waste time. Besides, Spirit was the only one who didn’t make a comment regarding the ridiculous nature of Stein smoking. The nicotine couldn’t exactly kill him, but it also had no other affect, either. All placebo, Stein supposed. But it was placebo that he had decided to commit himself to, and, damnit, that shouldn’t mean that he had to be privy to Spirit’s ridiculous floundering about.

Slowly, Stein turned to look at Spirit’s face, blowing out a plume of smoke right into his face with a deadpan, and Spirit scowled at him through the gray, waving his hand around.

“Rude. At least buy me a drink first,” Spirit joked, and Stein rolled his eyes, cracking his shoulders back as he dangled the cigarette in his mouth.

“Has anyone informed you of how hilarious you are?” Stein asked, and Spirit seemed to puff up.

“Not recent-“

“Good.”

Spirit pouted, slouching down slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to get it to look even more like he belonged on the cover of a cheap romance novel.

“You’re a rude one.”

“Obviously.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, have you seen the newest addition?”

Stein yawned as he smoked, filling his lungs completely as though to prevent having to answer. But Spirit didn’t let up, only looking at him expectantly as Stein dragoned the smoke, blowing it out through his nose.

“No,” he finally relented, having finished the majority of his cigarette. “Should I have?”

“A bit. She’s hard to miss.”

“You’d notice anything with a pulse that you could engage in coitus with, Spirit.  _ Any _ woman is difficult for you not to notice.”

“As true as that is, she’s-“

“’Got a hell of an ass to waist ratio’, as usual?”

“Well, yeah, but I was gonna say that she’s-“

“Hello hello!” a new voice rung out, and Stein lazily rolled his eyes over to the doorway where the former Lord Death stood. Though, the man still wore the traditional robes that indicated his rank, as well as the bone mask that hid his general features from the world. The only person who knew what was beneath that mask was Spirit, and despite the fact that the man was used to kissing and telling everyone in the general vicinity, regardless of their interest level, he had been particularly silent about their former lord.

Regardless, now, it was Stein who wore the scythe strapped to his back; Stein who was meant to wear the boney mask, complete with calcified spurs and bottomless eyes; Stein who surrounded himself in a black shroud of a cloak.

Temporarily, of course. It would appear that their former lord still needed more time to recover. And until that time came, Stein was responsible for all the newly dead souls that came into their realm.

“Mmm? Yes, Lord Death?” Stein asked, more thankful than anything that Shinigami interrupted Spirit when he did. Regardless of the trust that Stein had in the well-known horn ball, that didn’t mean he was interested in whatever lewd comments he would have about the new goddess that showed up.

“There’s an assignment for you,” Death said, and the relief that spread through Stein was particularly visible when his shoulders relaxed and he looked over at Spirit once more.

“Oh. What a shame. I suppose I have to go,” Stein deadpanned, and Spirit rolled his eyes at his friend, but there was something almost smug and expectant in his expression. As the self-dubbed Cupid of the immortal realm, Spirit only ever got that look when two or more people were about to tangle in any sort of romantic or sexual way.

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

“Wipe the smirk off your face, would you?”

“Ah, I’m just proud is all,” Spirit said, and the genuine happiness on his face showed as much, but Stein shook his head. If Spirit was proud that Stein was being sent on assignment, he certainly hadn’t shown it before.

“You’re rather late to be proud.”

“Not exactly what I meant. I just didn’t know you had it in you, is all.”

“Spirit, what-“

“Stein. It’s rather urgent,” Lord Death insisted, and at the somber tone, Stein turned back once more, sparing only a single, confused glance in Spirit’s direction before he did so.

“Of course,” Stein remarked, not paying much attention when Spirit said “Good luck with her!”, convinced his friend was just joking.

Stein shook his head before he dropped his cigarette to the floor, making his way to his former god, the black cloak he wore swirling around and ghosting over the floor as the two of them walked out of the room Stein had been standing in, filling it with smoke. As they passed the hallway of guillotines, Stein matched his footsteps with his former lord’s, though how he did so, he wasn’t entirely sure. Lord Death wore his black robes to the floor, making it look like he was almost floating over the ground. Stein, instead, had decided to leave the cloak open so that it billowed behind him.

After a moment of only Stein’s footsteps making noise, Lord Death finally spoke up.

“There’s been. . .ah, a situation.”

“I presumed,” Stein snarked, but Lord Death didn’t seem to be cheered by the usually amusing dry humor Stein possessed.

“A serious situation. One I’ve allowed to go on for too long.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmmm,” Lord Death said, and Stein noticed that he had dropped his voice almost drastically. Seemingly, it  _ was _ rather serious.

“What sort of situation is this?” Stein asked, noting that Lord Death took a left where he usually took a right. It would appear that they weren’t going into the general briefing room, after all, but the Death Room.

“Have you heard of Medusa? The two of you haven’t interacted so I don’t much expect you have.”

“Poisons? Of course.”

“She’s. . .well, she’s been rogue for quite some time now.”

At this, Stein looked up sharply, his eyes flashing in a bright glimpse of sickly green.

“Rogue?”

“Roaming the human realm. Undetected, of course.”

“For how long?”

“A few decades now.”

“You’ve allowed a rogue to wander that long without repercussion?”

Lord Death’s aura grew at the remark, and his influence seemed to fill the entire hallway, growing choking and oppressive. Stein almost felt as though he couldn’t breathe when Lord Death turned around and his voice was deadly.

“Careful,  _ boy _ , I can just as easily take back my cloak and send you down to pit with all the other wandering souls.”

Even as the chill ran through him, Stein couldn’t help but think that Lord Death couldn’t. Not in the state he was in. He never did reveal exactly what had drained him of so much power, but the older Gods and Goddesses had whispered about Lord Death having fragmented around the time that Stein had originally died.

Still, just in case Lord Death’s threat proved true, Stein held his tongue. He had been to the pit, before. Now, he heralded souls there himself, but when he first died, all those years ago, he had experienced it, first hand. He would never forget how his soul had felt as though it had torn apart, lost all sense of self amongst the others, all his individuality and agency drained from him.

Stein held his tongue, only looking at Lord Death, unflinchingly, until the God turned back around and began walking once more.

“Your mission is to find Medusa, through any means necessary.”

“Is there a theory as to where she is?”

“Somewhere in the human realm. I’ve managed to narrow it down to a continent, but beyond that, she’s covered her trail particularly well.”

“Is she wanted alive?”

“She’s wanted dead,” Lord Death said, his voice icy. “She’s caused too much havoc. There’s been a series of murders I believe she is the cause of.”

“Is there any trail to follow?”

“Not beyond that. She’s too damn smart for trails. She’s been planning something and if it is as I fear, it could break the world open.”

Stein stared at the back of Lord Death’s head before he processed the information, rolling it over in his mind. “Understood.”

“I’ll provide you with a map and a means to contact me, though I’m unsure as to whether the connection will go through between the realms. Medusa has. . .skewed the frequency, somehow.”

“Tezca can’t get through?” Stein asked, mildly surprised.

“He’s been attempting. Regardless, you should have everything you need in the shelter I’ve secured for you. Surely, you remember from your days alive how society worked? Not much has changed.”

“Is that so?” Stein asked, his head almost reeling from the idea of going back to walk amongst humans. It had been too long. Time moved differently when one was immortal. He hadn’t the faintest idea what year it was, or what had happened. He wondered who the King was, now. Back in his lifetime, it had been Henry something or other.

“It’ll take some adjusting, but I trust you can handle it.”

“Naturally.”

“Good. The shelter we’ve secured for you has enough monetary means for sustaining you for a long while. As much as I hope this assignment will be swift, I won’t underestimate Medusa. And you shouldn’t, either. She’s a cunning woman. And ruthless.”

“I’m aware.”

“Excellent. Which is why you’ll be working with Marie.”

And at that, Stein’s head whipped up once more, the two of them finally reaching the Death Room, and one of the side walls had been transformed into a rippling mirror, the bone throne standing proud and large at the front of the room. But Stein couldn’t even appreciate that, all things considered. To start, the name didn’t ring any bells. He had never met a god or goddess called “Marie”, but even if he did, it wouldn’t make any difference. It wasn’t the who but the why that bothered him; the idea of working with any other creature rubbed him the wrong way. He must have resembled a cat rubbed in the wrong direction.

“A partner?”

“Medusa is dangerous, Stein, as you just admitted. You may not know it, but when she left, she was as strong as I was. There’s no telling what has happened to her power now that she has been free. And you aren’t at your full ability, either. You still haven’t mastered all your abilities.”

Stein bristled. “You let a rogue wander for this long. If she’s built up strength, it is because she’s been allowed to.”

Lord Death looked taken aback by such a comment, by the impunity, and the skull of his face darkened once more, the features sharpening. “I am not letting her wander now, am I?”

Stein opened his mouth for a rebuttal, sour at the idea of having to work with a random god or goddess for what he determined was a simple assignment. Find and punish a random goddess who had gone off the grid: how difficult could it be? Especially when he was at full power and itching for something to do. Lord Death was correct when he claimed that Stein had yet to master all his abilities, but he had mastered  _ most _ of them, and though he was a fledgling, he was dialed up to eleven. Just as he was about to tell Lord Death such, he turned away from him.

“Ah, that should be Marie, now,” Lord Death commented, sounding almost smug as he turned to look at the doorway of guillotines that he and Stein had just entered through, and Stein huffed, his breath aimed upward so some of his hair came out of his eyes. The muttered “splendid” did nothing to ease his mood, and he kept his eyes rolled high.

He was already terrible at meeting new people. He really shouldn’t be forced to meet them when he was already irritable. He wasn’t one for looking at other side of things when he was in such a state.

The soft clicks were the first thing he heard, a gentle clacking over the floors, and it made him look forward. He supposed if he was going to be working with this Marie, he should at least know what they looked like.

It was jarring to see her. His silver brows went up in surprise.

He was death. Or, at least, temporarily. He was taking over the job of reaping souls. He sat upon a throne of bones whilst clad in all black, having been referred to as a shadow. It was all a tad melodramatic, but Lord Death was certainly one for theatrics, so Stein had little to do with it all. Hell, he carried around a massive scythe nearly as large as he was, which was saying something considering he was nearly seven feet tall. He was the closest thing one could ever find that resembled the darkness.

He was Death with a capital D and he was being paired with. . .mother nature?

The woman walking toward him couldn’t have been more than five feet. In fact, he suspects without her heels, on which she was teetering with a slight wobble, she wouldn’t even hit that tall. The flowers atop her head, looping petals of every shade certainly added nothing to make her menacing.

She was a walking sunflower, really. Her hair was the color of sunlight as she walked forward, each step producing a new bloom in her wake, and the strands looped over her warm shoulders. With every movement, the vines twined about her ankles and calves seemed to twist about, lending her footsteps a soft, liquid quality.

The truly eyecatching feature, pardon the pun, was the bright, beautiful bloom sprouting from what would usually be her left eye. Her right, the color of caramel, seemed to glow in the slight gloom of the Death Room, but her left was bright with vines extending out of it to twine with the flowers atop her head.

He didn’t know if his mouth had popped open, or if he was simply staring, dumbfounded, but her grin seemed to widen as she finally made her way in front of him, her dress seeming to move even when she was standing still.

“Franken Stein, yes?” she asked, and her voice rung out like a sweet bell, a sigh of tenderness. “I’m Marie. Marie Mjolnir.”

When Stein took the moment to look over at Death, he couldn’t help but note that the God looked just a tad smug.

“I’m working with a plant?” Stein managed to wheeze out, his brows meeting in the middle. He had the distinct need to throw his hood over his head and bury his face in his collar when he heard a huff.

Lord Death, for his part, simply laughed. “Marie may not look like much, Stein, but she’s not one you’d want to get angry,” he warned, and Stein looked down at the woman to see her mouth scrunched over to the side, her fist already curling up.

“Ah, ah, Marie. I’m sorry for him. Born human, you know.”

“He’s had a few hundred years to learn manners,” Marie sniffed, looking up at him. “If we’re working together, I’d rather appreciate to be taken seriously.”

“Yes. Yeah. Of course,” Stein said, looking her over. When his eyes lingered a moment too long over her thigh, where her dress was brought high in a slit, the fabric of her skirt seemed to knit together, covering more of her skin.

“My eye is up here, buddy,” she said, and Stein almost winced as he adjusted his gaze accordingly. Lord Death had laughter in his voice.

“It’s good to see the two of you will get along,” he said, and Stein grit his teeth.

“Mmmm,” he hummed out, and Marie looked him over critically.

“You’re the temporary God of Death, yes?”

“Mmm.”

“Then let’s start again. I’m Marie Mjolnir, Goddess overlooking the Natural World.”

“There are few that know nature as well as Marie does, Stein. Medusa has likely created many a poison utilizing native human plantlife as well as whatever she’d managed to take from our realm, as well. Marie will be able to help identify potions and the like,” Lord Death filled in.

“And her combat experience? Or is she simply going to be the bloodhound looking for Medusa’s trail?”

Marie’s eye flashed at that and the vines around her coiled tightly, looking tense and ready to strike.

“If you think plants can’t be deadly, you haven’t met a Venus Flytrap,” she remarked frankly, and Stein locked his gaze with her.

“So you can fight?”

“Probably better than you can,” she said smugly, her lips tipping up at the corners. Before Stein could snark back at her, Lord Death stepped back.

“Ah, the two of you can get to know each other when you get to the shelter provided for you in the human world,” he said, and there was some kind of implication in it that made Stein want to protest. “But time is ticking, and I’d prefer Medusa’s soul on a platter sooner rather than later. Are we understood?”

“Yes,” Marie said, coiling her vines close to her once more, and Stein couldn’t help but note that the plants moved with a liquid sort of grace that Marie lacked.

“Stein?” Lord Death asked, as though looking for clarity.

“We will find and incapacitate the rogue Goddess Medusa, Lord Death.”

“Excellent,” he responded, stepping to the side and Stein watched as the mirror rippled more than before. “Then the two of you may enter. Remember, however, there is no return until Medusa is caught. Tezca can only open such a large portal a few times, and I’d rather not burn him out.”

“Understood,” Marie nodded, adjusting the small pack that was tied around her waist, reaching in and pulling out what looked like a piece of cloth on elastic from the small purse resting against her hips. Stein looked at her in confusion, but Lord Death was the one who answered him.

“Marie is in possession of the map and the locations and keys to the shelter. As her eye and your screw are particularly prominent, it is important that you hide yourselves properly. I have faith the two of you will be prompt,” Lord Death remarked, and this time, it was clear that it was the last say.

Stein only nodded, and Marie, after having put on what Stein could now identify as an eyepatch, did the same, resting her hand against the pack on her side.

“Oh,” Lord Death added, just as the two of them were walking forward, each of them with one step already passing through the mirror. “Stein, remember when I said not much has changed? Aaah, I might have stretched the truth a bit. You may find the human realm a tad more. . .different than I’d previously suggested. But you’ll certainly adjust.”

But before Stein could ask any further questions, he could feel the mirror tugging at him, desperate to close the overwhelming gateway, and as it sucked him in, Stein couldn’t help but wonder exactly what he was getting himself into.

* * *

**New York, New York, 2005**

If there was anything Stein had learned in the past ten minutes, it was that entering the human realm was equally as pleasant as leaving it. Arguably more so. While dying had just been a final, silent breath into the smoggy air, the darkness enclosing around him, being brought back to the human world had been a huge jumble, the portal materializing against a hard wall, landing both him and Marie on a disgusting looking floor that was not made of dirt or anything Stein had seen before, when he was last alive.

He and Marie had fallen into an undignified heap on what looked like liquefied rock, hardened and grimy and all too warm. Marie, despite her small stature, was heavier than she looked, and she’d fallen atop him with a small ‘oof’ at an awkward angle.

In other words, reentering the human realm was less than pleasant.

And, if there was anything  _ else _ he had learned about the human world, it was that everything had changed.

Everything.

‘Tad more different’, Lord Death had said. Bullshit. After having dusted himself off and both he and Marie getting to their feet, the map being pulled out so they had some semblance of where they were going, Stein left the small, dark hallway he’d been thrown into and entered into a completely different universe.

The architecture was huge, for one. Larger than even the largest castle he had ever seen, and far more ominous looking. There were clear panes, as though the entire place was made of windows, and he didn’t know whether to walk close to the buildings or stand as far away from it as possible.

The worst of it was the accelerated horseless carriages, the box-like machines making loud, angry noise. One of the occupiers of said horseless carriages had leaned out of the contraption to yell at him and Marie barely twenty seconds of them leaving the alleyway. Something about ‘freaks from comic con! watch where you’re going!’

If he had any semblance of what the hell had been said to him, perhaps he would have done more than stare, dumbfounded, for a few moments before he had to pull himself together and walk side by side with the miniature woman he was meant to work with.

Lord, those massive, looming buildings were ridiculous. He worried that would topple and fall onto him at a moment’s notice. They were intimidating glass spires that trailed up into the sky where the sun and clouds seemed to laugh at him.

Or, that could have just been the other people in the street.

He couldn’t help but feel that he and Marie were a tad. . .different from the other civilians. Perhaps because they weren’t dressed like them, the two of them trying to analyze the ridiculous map that Lord Death had gifted them.

Everything was overwhelming.

Marie seemed to huddle closer to him as they made their way, and he looked up from the convoluted map that Lord Death had supplied them with, outfitted with a few rather unhelpful “clues” as to where Medusa could have been as well as instructions to get to their shelter.

Clues, Lord Death called them.

Ridiculous, oversized stickers of his face, more like it, sporadically placed over various parts of the map. Lord Death had prepared them for a grand total of nothing in the mortal realm, and he couldn’t even blame Marie her wariness, considering everything around her was giant. And unfamiliar. She may be Goddess of Nature, but there was nothing natural about the human world, now.

For a moment, he couldn’t help but remember the snippets of memory he had allowed himself to hold onto, from back when he was human. His mother, singing in the small, dirt-packed hut that they’d lived in as she cooked what he had managed to gather that day. His younger sister sweeping the dusty floors, rubbing the back of her hand over her cheek and leaving a smear over her skin. He remembered the fields he used to chase after rabbits in and the filthy markets.

It was still filthy in the human realm, now, though he had little idea what else was similar. Seemingly, nothing. And for the barest sliver of time, he almost mourned the time he had lost, the time he had spent disconnected from almost everything.

But he didn’t have much time for that, since he heard Marie gasp and instantly snapped himself out of his stupor. Now was not the time for having his head in the damn clouds. There was a dangerous rogue on the loose and he was walking beside a Goddess he had little clue about.  He felt her leaving his side and turned to look at her, his hands reaching out, ready to summon his scythe.

But there was no reason. Despite the fact that her singular eye was massively wide, the flower in her other socket likely twisting angrily beneath the eyepatch she’d been outfitted with, she was looking into one of the buildings, where there wasn’t much, if any activity at all. Both her palms had flattened over the glass of the shop and she was looking into the building through the window, her lip wobbling.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, trying to determine why she was so upset.

“. . .Marie-“

“How could they!? This is murder, Stein! Murder! The human realm is barbaric,” she said, her voice slightly too loud, and he cringed when the people around them looked over at them. It was bad enough that he was in a massive cloak, the hood pulled up to hide his silver hair, and that Marie’s dress was moving like it was alive, now she had to go and make a scene.

He swiftly made his way toward her, looking into the building with keen, glowing eyes.

Yet, all he spotted was a plethora of plants in pots, sitting on the desk and before the window display.

“They don’t even water them!” Marie said, her face darkening, and he spotted the way her fist clenched a moment before she reared back as though ready to smash the glass.

His gloved hand whipped out lightning fast, barely even visible to a mortal eye, before he grasped her wrist with a gloved hand clamped in a death grip. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed out, looking around at the wide eyes and surprised faces of the pedestrians around them. Even if he didn’t know the extent of Marie’s power, he knew she was a Goddess. None of them were lightweights. No human structure could withstand their wrath. “You can’t go smashing buildings here.”

She turned to look at him, her mouth scrunched to the side and her eye ablaze. “I can’t let them suffer in there!”

“You’re going to have to. We’re here for a different purpose, or don’t you recall?” he asked, and though it wasn’t worded in a scathing way, his voice had become harsh and cold, as icy as tundra when he spoke to her. Marie seemed to wilt beneath his frigid demeanor and immediately yanked her wrist from his grasp, looking hurt for the barest of moments before she hid it. The flowers atop her head seemed to droop slightly before they turned away from him.

“Well, what do you have in mind, huh? We’ve been wandering for an hour now in this weird world,” she muttered out, turning away from the shop and him both, her arms crossing before her chest. He felt like reaching up and pinching his nose but refrained.

“We need to fit in. No one has answered our question for directions, and if we draw more attention to ourselves in this manner, we’re going to alert Medusa. She has an advantage in this world.”

Marie looked over her shoulder at him, her eye still upset before she let her arms drop.

“And how do you propose we do that?”

He looked around at the people on the streets, and they glanced to the side immediately, the usual sign that they had been watching the scene Marie and he had created. Yet, as he looked at them, then to Marie, and then to a woman off to the side, he presumed the fastest way to hide themselves would be to dress like the common folk.

When in Rome, he supposed.

He watched as a woman walked into a small shop with plastic women in the display without anyone around her batting an eye.

Yes, that would have to do.

Though he didn’t grab Marie this time, he quickly made his way toward the shop, crossing the street where the strange, horseless carriages were. A few made goose-like honking sounds at him, confusing him, but he supposed that once he was in proper clothing for the world, they would honk far less.

After a moment, he could feel Marie following after him.

Grudgingly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Week One**

The apartment that Lord Death had assigned them to was only found after Marie had sweetly asked an old woman for directions about three hours into wandering. Thankfully, she looked particularly normal, with her gentle smile and her long, slightly curled blonde hair. Her flower crown didn’t seem any more out of place in New York than it was in the Immortal realm, and Stein had kept a decent distance from Marie while she asked.

Because of the new clothes she wore, there was little to distinguish her from the common passerby’s on the streets. The pencil skirt, which the saleswoman of the shop, Guess, had insisted would make her look professional, fit her modestly yet flatteringly, and the button down blouse was a light apricot color, making Marie’s sunkissed skin stand out. Stein, in comparison, had absolutely refused to take his hood off in the store, insisting that he needed to cover his head, and so, had fallen to the fate of wearing a slouchy beanie to cover up the screw, as well as a plain black T-shirt and slacks. They’d changed right there in the store, having to have the saleswoman swipe the plastic card that they had been given since they had no clue how to do so before they’d moseyed on out.

They were a mismatched pair. Which was perhaps why they got such strange looks when they had finally stumbled up to the apartment, taking the stairs. Stein had climbed them three at a time while Marie glared at him, moving double time to try to keep up.

And then they found out that there was only one bedroom. And, worse, only one bed.

However, that was the least of their problems. They were stuck in an unfamiliar world, surrounded by unfamiliar technology. Lord Death had been correct when he’d hypothesized that they wouldn’t be able to contact him. And Marie had just called dibs on the only mattress in the entire house.

It was going to be a long mission.  

* * *

**Week Two**

Finding out the machinery of the human realm had been the first real hurdle. With Medusa already having an advantage in this world, Stein and Marie were left to play catch up. Which included many an altercation with the dishwasher, the refrigerator, the shower, and more. Marie sang her praises for the bath and shampoo, while Stein woke every morning on the couch, cracking his neck and listening in to the rather loud honks of New York traffic.

They had to find some means of educating themselves. Stein had found the library, his eyes going wide at the massive assortment of tomes on seemingly every single subject known to man. When he had died, such things were luxuries, but this ‘library’ offered them for free.

And while Stein was busy with his head in a book, Marie had learned and fallen in love with movies, her preferred entertainment of choice in their joint household.

Truthfully, the two of them had somewhat avoided talking to each other. Marie attempted, sometimes, but Stein was cold on the best of days. Still jilted at the thought of having a partner, he wasn’t all too happy when Marie tried to make small talk with him.

Part of it was that he felt underestimated by Death. He had handled many a mission on his own before, he didn’t need anyone else invading into his space, someone he had to take responsibility for. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Marie very much so could handle herself, if her temper had any say in the matter, but he was grudging to her.

There was something about her, however, that called for him. Some pulling of her soul that beckoned him, as though simultaneously polarizing and attracting him. But he kept his head in his books, trying to learn as much about the world as possible. While Marie indulged in the moving, speaking figures that played out scenes on the odd looking box he had learned was called a Television, Stein kept his distance.

Or, at least, he tried.

* * *

**Week Three**

He had started to wake up with a blanket on his shoulders, keeping him warm. Marie left sticky notes over their house with small doodles on them to remind him to take breaks in his studying. He had only ever lived with his family before, never having gotten married when he was still alive, surely never even really noticing other people, but he couldn’t help but feel. . .domestic with her.

Surely, such a short period of time spent with her couldn’t do so much. But he was reminded that, being immortal, they worked on different timelines.

And he had yet to realize what it was about Marie that so drew him in. Her soul, most likely, shining, thrumming, glowing creature that it was.

But part of it was also simply her, that she was funny and liked to crack jokes, that she had spent well over what he realized now was five-hundred dollars on video games and told him to get his head out of his books and help her understand just what in the world the damn things were about. That she offered to let him take a warm shower before she did, or that she indulged his strange taste in movies.

Part of it was simply that Marie was Marie. That, one day, the apartment they’d lived in had been bare and cold and the next, it was full of flowers and the sweet scent of honey.

Marie felt like the home Stein had left behind so many years ago. And he didn’t realize just how much he’d missed it.

* * *

**Week Four**

Arguably, the true turning point was when they found out that human food wasn’t as frivolous as they had previously believed. The past few weeks had been so intensive that they’d barely had the chance to think of food, let alone sample much of anything in the human world. Stein had learned the basic knowledge of day to day life for humans, their arts, their sciences, but Marie, through her constant binge watching, had learned how to speak to people.

She had learned to fit in.

So, it wasn’t a surprise when she came to the apartment with her arms full of something or other, as usual. She made friends with almost everyone she came into contact with, so it wasn’t strange that she would show up with something new.

The wine, however, was all too familiar. They had been following the news on the television as well as in the newspapers, strains of murders that Stein and Marie had both hypothesized might be connected to Medusa, though they couldn’t know for certain, and they’d been so bogged down by the responsibility of what felt like a ticking time bomb, as well as their almost inexplicable gravitation toward each other.

Stein didn’t get it. Marie was bossy, she was loud, snarky. She had a hell of an attitude. But she was also brilliant and funny, with a warm, glowing soul. Her smile gave him pause that he would usually never give anyone else.

She was. . .different. Made him feel strange.

And so, he got absolutely hammered. Cup after cup of wine. Enough that he drained over two bottles just by himself. So, of course, they’d ended up on the couch, all too vulnerable to each other, swirling wine around sloppily in what had previously been untouched glasses they’d found in the cupboards, abandoned by at least ten years.

“You know,” Marie started, taking another sip as they watched the news, knees almost touching, “you were a right jackass when we first met.”

Stein laughed. The television shows, as well as the wine, had loosened her tongue, given her a slang that flowed as easily as water.

“Wasn’t too happy. You were a walking sunflower.”

“Nothing wrong with sunflowers!” Marie huffed, but she giggled, too.

“Yeah, but against a snake?” he asked, tipping his head back and drinking down at least three mouthfuls of wine.

“I can take her. If we ever find her, that is.”

“Working on it,” Stein slurred. “A bit hard.”

“Yeah, yeah. The trail keeps running cold,” Marie replied, looking over at the wall that Stein had turned into a clues board, like in all the murder mysteries she’d ever seen.

“Mmmmmmhm.”

“At least you got that stick up your ass taken care of,” Marie chortled, kicking her feet up before she settled them beneath her.

“You leave my posterior out of this,” Stein said, but the smile that twitched at his lips betrayed his serious tone. Marie lolled her head back.

“Oh, c’mon. It was a compliment!” she insisted, and Stein didn’t realize that he had let his guard down so completely in such a short period of time. That here was this woman who had waltzed into his life, and drank wine with him on a lumpy couch, and did small kindnesses for him with no expectation of reciprocation. This woman who smiled at him as though he were not a menace.

He didn’t know when he started leaning toward her.

“Was it?” he questioned, looking down at her, and when she opened her eye, the golden orb sparkling, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah. You know. . .I’m glad you’re my partner,” she admitted, the wine making her brave, and her lips seemed particularly pouty, perhaps from the excessive drinking that she had done.

“You’re the least terrible choice I could have chosen for myself, as well,” he replied, and Marie giggled, sitting up straight all of a sudden.

“You’re so strange,” she said, but the fondness in it made him smile.

“Normalcy is a social construct, Marie.”

“Yeah, yeah, bookworm.”

Her grin softened at the edges, teasing with no malice at all, and Stein felt something in his chest itch. From his medical textbooks, it could have been anything at all, really, and he closed his eyes, trying to remember symptoms, but Marie cut him off.

“Hey, do you wanna play a game?”

Stein cracked one eye open. “Like in Saw?”

“No, silly! Like twenty questions.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t look so disappointed.”

Stein shrugged. “There isn’t too much to ask.”

“Bullshit. I heard you were human, once.”

Stein opened both eyes at that, focusing his gaze on Marie, and her gentle expression spoke of a burning curiosity.

Were she anyone else, he would have told her to shut up and not to go there. The life he’d had, once upon a time, was gone. It had been hundreds of years since his family had died, and with them, anyone who would ever mourn were he to perish.

At least, until now.

Because she wasn’t anyone else. She was Marie. And he didn’t understand why he wanted to talk to her, why he looked forward to her “I’m home!”, why he wanted to brainstorm with her, but he did.

“Yes. But that isn’t a question,” he pointed out, redirecting his attention to the glass of wine in his hands.

“Well. . .what was it like? Do you miss it?”

“What are the rules of this game? Do you just ask all the questions and I have to answer? That hardly seems fair.”

“Sorry,” Marie said, a light blush coming over her face, and Stein tilted his head, looking at her intently for a moment, before he blinked once, twice, and opened his mouth.

“It was. . .simple. Not like now. Less noise.”

“You had a. . .family?” Marie asked, the longing obvious on her face. Stein looked down into the swirling red of the wine.

“Once.”

“Did you. . .care for them?”

“As far as I can remember, I couldn’t imagine existing without them.”

Marie nodded. “You know. . .I want a family. . .one day.”

“Can. . .you have that?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity, though their gazes met once more.

“I don’t know. . .I hope so.”

“I can do some research for you?” he offered, not knowing why he was so invested, and Marie smiled at him.

“I’d appreciate that,” she said, going to reach for his hand, but he flinched away almost immediately.

“Of course, the mission comes first,” he insisted.

But Marie was focused on his hands, on how his gloves, dark and black and covering him to the wrist, had never been taken off.

“. . .why do you wear those?” Marie asked, the flowers atop her head bobbing and looming, curling toward him, and this time, Stein’s expression got dark.

“Because I am Death,” he answered, plainly, and with the monotone he usually had for almost all. When his voice had gotten that vulnerable inflection around Marie, he didn’t know. But she frowned at him, reaching out once more, only for him to scotch away.

“What does that mean? Why do you have to wear gloves just because you’re Death?”

“Because everything I touch dies, Marie,” Stein remarked coldly.

It wasn’t a lie. When he’d first become Death, Shinigami making the deal with him, the warning was clear. All he had to do was touch something and it would be negatively affected. Of course, humans and plants, creatures with shorter lifespans, would die much faster of his touch than gods, but he could still wither them.

Marie’s frowned deepened. “That isn’t true, Franken.”

And this time, her hand whipped out lightning fast, and he thought she was going to reach for his hand, once more, so he flinched it away, but when her warm palms met the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks, he absolutely froze, his eyes locked on her.

The first shock was that he had expected for her to start losing her golden sheen, for her to go sickly and gray, for her skin to start dying. He expected to see her veins become more prominent, her hair growing limp.

That didn’t happen.

The second shock, however, was just how warm her touch was. How soft, how tender. Marie had a tentative touch, one that made him feel almost. . .worthy. Precious.

He had never been touched like that, either dead, or alive, and Marie smiled at him, her warmth radiating through all of him.

He had resigned himself to a life without ever being touched again, easily. He didn’t think he would miss it, or want it. After all, his family hadn’t been the most touch oriented crowd, and, as a Death God, he presumed he would never meet anyone he would want to touch him. Truthfully, he was used to not wanting to be touched at all.

Yet, here was Marie, softly holding his face in her capable, wonderful hands.

“I’m life, silly. You can’t hurt me,” she assured, and he wondered if she could feel just how warm his face was getting just from feeling her touch him, just how the electricity seemed to hum between the two of them, their souls twisting toward one another as though wanting to be joined everywhere possible.

He stared into her singular eye and wondered how such a short time spent with her could have felt like everything he ever needed.

* * *

What had started as a grudging partnership couldn’t help but morph into familiarity. It was hard to remain cold to one another when they lived in the same, particularly small apartment.

Frankly, Stein was confused as to whether Lord Death was the God of Love or Spirit, considering Lord Death had provided the two of them with shelter that only contained one bedroom. The entire mission was feeling more like a joke than anything else, and after a month of being stuck in the strange world, Stein had grown sick of it.

But, as he looked at Marie, seeing how she was grinning at the television, her smile lighting up most of her face, at least he figured that the company wasn’t half bad.

Their mission was to come find Medusa. He couldn’t help but feel as though he were finding something else while in the human realm.

And it scared him. And confused him.

And he dreamed, all too often, that he was walking toward Marie with his bare hands outstretched for hers.

* * *

**Two Months Later**

Time had seemed to pass as though in the blink of an eye, and still they were nowhere in terms of their mission than they had started.

Hence, the situation she was in, now.

Split up and cover more ground, he’d said. It would be fine, he’d said. Humans weren’t likely to wander outside after dark, according to his books, he’d said. They could find something that might lead them to Medusa, he’d said.

He was wrong, Marie had determined. She swore that was the last time she took Franken’s advice.

She’d been wandering the city, aimlessly, for what felt like hours. It was just as it was the first time that she’d stepped into the human realm with Stein all those days ago. They’d finally gotten desperate enough to go off, searching blindly.

Marie had told him it would bring them nothing.

Perhaps they were a good pair, after all. Seeing as she was wrong, too.

The first signs that things were wrong occurred when the bells of the church rung out, all too loud, even though it was getting darker and darker, and Marie had sighed, counting how many times it chimed, not hearing anything over the particularly loud noise.

Yet, when it died down and she had wandered deeper into the center of the town, she could finally hear it, the frantic, scared babbling, all too similar to a cry for help in all the movies she had watched in her attempts to get her used to human culture. Marie’s brows furrowed as she caught snippets of the conversation, immediately following the sound.

“-please, just take my purse, you can take it.”

“Don’t hurt my wife-“

“Shut up! I don’t want your fucking money, you morons. Give me the baby-“

“Please, please! No!”

Marie gasped as she rounded the corner, taking in the sight and feeling the fire in her soul ignite, her magic sparking through her in an angry current. There, right in front of her, was a small family backed into the corner of an alley all too like the one she had found herself in when she was first thrown into the human realm. It was just two grown humans, one of them clutching a small bundle, a human baby, close to their chest.

And in front of them, keeping them cornered, was what appeared to be another broad shouldered, massive human looming before them, laughing and waving a knife around.

“Hey!” Marie called out, her fists tightening closely, her chest thrown out as her shoulders went back, her elbows already coming close to her torso. “What do you think you’re doing? Leave them alone!”

She’d seen scenes similar to this one in some of her movies, and they never ended well. She had marveled over the fact that people had simply walked by without so much as a second thought. How anyone could ignore distraught souls, she’d never know. The entire world cried out for her, she felt sympathy for simple saplings finding their first gasps of life in the world and grown humans, alike.

And when whoever the harasser was turned to look at her, their eyes morphed. Sharp.

And snakelike.

Marie gasped, barely managing to expel the air before the man started to transform before her very eye, their neck cracking with a sickening crunch, and the family behind him looked at Marie with wide, scared eyes.

She didn’t even think. Humans didn’t need to be exposed to the world of immortals. Not now, not ever. Besides, the only trail they had was that Medusa was, supposedly, responsible for a series of murders. And the scene looked just about right with those conditions in mind.

So, it might not have been the smartest plan to rush forward, her heels kicking around in the puddles and splashing random liquid around, but it was all she could do to build up enough momentum to throw herself against the creature and slam the both of them against the brick wall opposite to the family. They cried out in confusion as Marie did so, rolling them around before she jammed her knee up and forward, digging it into the assaulter’s gut and winding them completely, feeling them strain against her harsh hold.

Under her breath, she hissed, pinning them down. “Where is she?” she asked, her eye furious. “What the hell do you think you were going to do with that family?”

But instead of answering her, the creature only laughed, opening their mouth wide to reveal what looked to be an abyss. The smell alone would have knocked most out, and Marie grimaced, temporarily caught off guard.

It was all the creature needed, wheezing out. “Ah, so Death has sent his hounds.”

“ _ Where _ is she?”

“You will know soon enough,” they remarked, laughing as though it were a joke, and before Marie could demand a location once more, the creature slipped free from her hold and slammed their elbow against her shoulder, sending her reeling back.

Just as she managed to catch herself before she fell, looking up and opening her mouth, she saw the creature bring a vial of sickly purple liquid to their lips, licking up the glass before jamming a single, too sharp tooth into the cork keeping it contained. Marie didn’t have the time to dodge or question, too caught up in her confusion, bruised from the hit and concerned for the family behind her.

It was her downfall as the creature spat into the vial, and she only caught how it bubbled and reacted, turning an angry looking red before they grinned. “Medusa won’t be happy about this,” they commented, and then the world shrieked around her as they threw the entire vial at her face, the thin glass breaking against her face.

The liquid burned her skin and her plants felt like they were wilting. The glass cut shallowly into her, and everywhere she bled seemed to froth up in reaction to the contents of the vial. The shriek that spilled from her lips was short and sharp as she threw her hands to her cheeks and covered her eyes, feeling whatever was in the vial eat away at her flesh.

Shaking, she heard the sound of the creature running off, their footsteps heavy over the floor as they fled, and she opened her mouth, intent on telling them to stop, but the liquid dripped down into her mouth and the taste was disgusting. She felt it smother her tongue, acrid and bitter, like cigarettes meeting rotting meat, and she gagged, falling heavily against the wall and choking.

From around her, the family chattered nervously, calls of “Are you okay?” and “Is she breathing?” surrounded her like a wet, heated blanket. The fever that burned through her bones ignited her, the poison worming its way past the thick, cotton eyepatch she wore, into her eye socket beneath her flower, threatening to chew at her brain.

“Move! Arnold, move!” she heard, before a warm, comforting hand came to her shoulder. “Bella, are you okay?”

Marie took a shaky breath in, her arms shuddering before she shook her head in the negative. She leaned against the wall more heavily, trying to use it as support to get up, but her knees buckled immediately, simultaneously feeling as though she were made of lead and also of rubber. Nothing was making sense and the disorientation was smoggy, dulled her senses so that when the voice grasped her wrists and pulled them from her face, Marie did little more than groan in pain at the light that seared her and intensified the poison.

“Oh, god,” the woman whispered. “Stay still, okay?” and when Marie squirmed, the woman’s voice took on an even softer edge. “Shhh, shhhhh. My name is Rosalie. I’m going to help you.”

Marie’s breathing was harsh and heavy, but she went to open her mouth again, only to get Rosalie to gently put her hand beneath her chin. “It will get in your mouth. I’m going to wipe your face, okay?”

Only after Marie nodded did she hear a rustling and then felt something soft on her face, fabric of some kind, wiping what was left on her skin away. Marie wondered how there was anything left to remove, truthfully. It felt as though she had swallowed down the majority of what was in the vial, that it had pooled into her pores, leaving her swollen.

“Keep your eyes closed, okay?” she asked, before she slowly ran the fabric over her exposed eyelid. It was only when the woman made a move to take her eyepatch off that Marie gasped, grasping the woman’s wrist in a weakened hold.

“I-I’m okay,” Marie said, her voice wobbling, and she cracked her eye open though it ached. The remnants of the concoction that had been thrown into her eye stung miserably and her eye watered, tears pooling before they slid down her face, an involuntary reaction. As her eyesight adjusted, she could see that the woman was indeed the mother, a cloth in her hands and her handbag opened beside her, and she frowned, her beautiful face shadowing in the darkness.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her warm brown eyes the biggest comfort. Marie swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“Yes,” she choked out. “My. . .my partner should be here. . .soon.”

At that, the woman looked at her critically. “Do you want to call them?”

“No,” Marie said, having no clue how to work modern phones of any kind, and terrified of giving away anything. At the moment, she was just a woman who had stepped in at the wrong time to help a family that was being harassed. Likely, she just looked like she got off her shift at an office job, her pencil skirt bunched around her knees, riding up higher on her waist, and her blouse was dirty from sliding against the wall, her hair unkempt and pulled from its high bun, but she looked professional nonetheless.

“Do you want an ambulance?”

“N-no,” Marie said, shuddering in the cold, and Rosalie looked her over a few times before she nodded sharply.

“When will your partner be here?”

“I. . .I don’t know. . .soon?”

“Then I’ll stay and wait with you,” she insisted, looking behind her at her husband. “Amor! Cuida del bebe, llevalo a casa.”

“No,” Marie protested weakly, “it’s dangerous.”

When the woman looked back at her, there was a fire in her eyes. “We women do not leave each other behind. Never.”

Marie swallowed as she looked at her, glancing behind her to see the concerned face of what must have been her husband. For a moment, she focused down at the bundle curled in his arms before she took in how Rosalie’s husband’s face set tightly, walking forward to place a hand on her shoulder, speaking to her in a hushed tone. Marie didn’t know what language they were speaking, but from the passion alone, she knew she wouldn’t argue with Rosalie. And neither did her husband, who shook his head before nodding, gently running his hand over her hair before his grasp on the baby tightened slightly and he left.

Marie blinked at his retreating back before Rosalie rummaged around in her purse once more and Marie realized that she was placing her keys back between her fingers and had taken out some napkins.

“Now, let’s clean you up a little.”

* * *

Marie didn’t know how long she spent with Rosalie, but the woman was pleasant. She had kept her phone out, insisting upon making sure that they got to an illuminated place. The town was small, she’d explained, but everywhere could be dangerous.

There was something so strange about the fact that she was being cared for by a human. Marie knew she could touch walls and turn them to rubble, but here was this human woman making sure that she was safe instead of the other way around. Something inside of Marie softened until it felt like it would fall apart, and the gratitude she felt almost overshadowed her. In the small moments when Marie closed her eye, allowing some rest, she sent small spells for good gardens and fortune, for luck and prosperity.

Having gone through the massive catacomb of New York City, she had been unaware such kindnesses were available by people.

The two of them had hobbled their way to a bench beneath some sort of light, one that loomed high over their heads like a florescent sun, and Marie had sat down heavily the instant she got the chance. Rosalie occasionally took her phone out, the screen illuminating her even further, and when people walked past, she’d pitched her voice up, loud and confident, to let the people walking by know that, were something to happen, they would surely be missed.

Perhaps Rosalie would, but Marie felt limp and heavy, waiting for Stein to appear in his shroud. Marie had stumbled over telling Rosalie that he was supposed to meet her near the bakery, the one with the red cupcakes always on display, barely a block away from the alley, and Rosalie had said nothing, only helping Marie make her way to the nearest bench.

There was no talk of how odd it was to meet someone close to 10 pm at a well closed bakery, there was no conversation regarding why Marie was where she was. And for that, Marie was thankful. Marie was waiting for Stein to appear in his shroud, waited for the familiar tall, hulking figure of his frame to come into view, but her eye was still watering occasionally, and she could barely see. She hoped that he had the good sense to remain in the human garb until he met with her. She didn’t know how she would explain it to Rosalie, and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation. But there was little she could do.

She despised feeling powerless. The power inside of her, which on a daily basis would swell and fill her with a warm buzz, seemed to be curling in on itself, shrinking and shrinking.

Marie wrapped an arm around her and shook her head when Rosalie offered a water bottle from her purse.

“It’s okay,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

* * *

When Stein finally appeared, it was from the shadows, and there was no concern creasing his brow, but rather, confusion. Marie was pale, she looked like a lily that had begun to droop, unwatered for too long a time, but when she lifted her head and saw him, she straightened her spine immediately, unwilling to look weak or incapable around him. Rosalie turned to look at her in confusion, her back to Stein, and Marie smiled at her, softly.

“He’s here, Rosalie.”

And, at that, Marie watched her eyebrows lift up as she looked around before she turned immediately, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, her eyes going sharp. “Your partner?” she asked, looking Stein over, up and down.

In hindsight, Marie understood how weird it must have been that he showed up near out of nowhere. At the very least, he hadn’t changed out of the dark slacks and button up that she had last seen him in. It seemed that whoever was watching over her, Death, or Spirit, perhaps, or anyone else, wanted to grant her some luck. She assumed the cloak would have given a few things away. The hat, however, was a tad out of place, but wearing a beanie in July was infinitely less suspicious than walking around with the massive screw sticking out of his head in plain sight.

“Marie?” he asked, and Rosalie’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the confirmation that he knew her, but she still went to look at Marie with some concern in her eyes.

“You’re okay to go with him?” she asked, and Marie nodded.

“Yeah. . .he’s going to take me home. . .do you want us to walk you?” Marie asked, and Rosalie shook her head immediately.

“No. I am calling my husband.”

“Then we can wait with you,” Marie insisted, feeling as though the darkness had taken on a more liquid quality, but Stein only looked baffled. It seemed as though the shadows were not coming from him, after all. Perhaps the poison was still in affect, but it seemed to have flooded out of her a little bit. Her senses had sharpened back, though not completely as alert as before.

Truthfully, she felt as though she were going to heave, but the last thing she was going to do was show that to anyone in the area. Rosalie went to shake her head once more, opening her mouth, likely to protest that Marie was hurt and that she needed to go home, but Marie came in slightly closer, her eye earnest and fierce.

“We do not leave each other behind,” she repeated. She had only been in the human realm for but a few short breaths in comparison to the eternity of her lifespan, but she was not going to let kindness go unreciprocated. Rosalie’s smile was warm, and the light of the streetlamps brought out the speckling of freckles across her nose.

“Thank you,” she responded before she looked down at her phone, her fingers flying quickly over the screen of her phone, and Marie relaxed backward. The flower beneath her patch still felt droopy and sad, but at the very least, Marie knew she had enough strength to stay for a few more minutes.

When she heard the footstep, she immediately whipped her head to the side along with Rosalie, who reached into her pocket without any hesitation.

It appeared that they had both forgotten that Stein had shown up, and his bewildered expression morphed into something even more flabbergasted, to which Marie could only chuckle. Rosalie huffed, sliding her hand out of her pocket and muttering something beneath her breath as she rolled her eyes back to Marie just in time to see the blonde wince.

Rosalie’s brows came together, her hand twitching as though to help before it lay limp in her lap. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, and Marie bit her lip, nodding slightly.

“I will be,” she assured, though she managed to catch the slightest concern coming over Stein’s face. She looked over Rosalie’s shoulder, a rather obvious act as Rosalie was at least a half a foot taller than her, and locked her gaze with Stein, who didn’t look away. Just as he was about to open his mouth, the loud, surprising chirp of ringtone cut through the air and Marie looked at Rosalie immediately, her eyes wide.

But there was nothing to fear, as Rosalie only glanced down at the screen and let loose a sigh of relief.

“And now  _ my _ partner is here,” Rosalie announced, standing from the bench as her husband made his way forward, concern and care etched onto his face. Something in Marie panged, the yearning to be cared for in such a way clawing at her, but she only smiled.

“Get home safe,” Marie said, standing up on shaking, wobbling legs, feeling as though the marrow had been sucked clean out of her, leaving her with little foundation. From the corner of her eye, she could see Stein moving forward, his presence warm and familiar, and Rosalie glanced at him for a moment before she nodded.

“You, too,” she said, the well-wishing in her voice more than clear.

Marie smiled at her. “Thank you,” she said, in earnest, her eye glowing brightly, “for helping me.”

Rosalie nodded in response, grasping her hands and grinning back. “And you, Marie,” she replied, passing off what felt like a piece of paper into Marie’s hands, and Marie looked down at her palms, unfolding her fingers so she could see a series of numbers, as well as Rosalie’s name. When she looked back at her face in confusion, Rosalie only quirked up her lips. “If you ever need help,” she claimed, and this time, the tear that welled in Marie’s eye had nothing to do with the poison.

As she clutched Rosalie’s hands, passing off her own gift, she whispered “Thank you,” once more before she whirled around.

When Rosalie looked down, the confusion that sparked through her was instantaneous, but looking back up, Marie and Stein had gone, disappeared into air.

The rose in Rosalie’s hands, however, thornless and bright and full-bloomed, gave no answers.

* * *

The small apartment they had holed up in wasn’t exactly hospital grade, but there was little else available to them, considering Marie had no identification as they weren’t even from that realm. So, she was left to be examined in the tiny, cramped bathroom: only one for the two of them to share.

Her ass felt cold on the sink, and she was tempted to huff and ask if she could, at the very least, sit down on the closed toilet so that she wasn’t balancing precariously on the edge, but Stein was far too tall, and even if she was hurt, she didn’t really want to inconvenience him more than she already had. His frown was small, but obvious as readjusted his gloves. Marie looked away, her face still burning as he intently looked over her face.

“It doesn’t appear as though you’re suffering from any burns. I doubt it’s corrosive,” he said, grasping hold of her jaw, not particularly gently, but not all that roughly, either. A good middle ground, considering her senses were still dulled, and she was sluggish even as he directed her to move her head from side to side. “Does it sting?”

“Not really,” she lied, and when his achingly green eyes looked at her, she felt as though he were reading his entire soul.

“How much does it sting?” he rephrased, and she chewed on her lip. “Scale of one to ten,” he clarified, and Marie wondered just where he’d gotten a doctor’s authority. Surely, it couldn’t have come from the countless books he’d filched from the library.

“Maybe a. . .two. Three.”

“And when you were first assaulted?”

Marie looked away, unable to continue staring into his gaze. “I don’t know. Five?”

“So that would be a seven in actuality,” he said, dryly, and Marie whipped her head up to protest, but he cut her off before she could. “Women underestimate their pain because of a higher tolerance,” he claimed, and she huffed.

“Human women, maybe,” she grumbled. “They’re stronger than I’ve ever given them credit for.”

“And we are stronger, still,” he announced, but there was something somber about how he was talking, and Marie kicked her feet back and forth, hunching in.

“Do you think this will give us any leads?” she asked, softly. “We’ve been here for a while.”

“Perhaps. I’ll analyze the contents of the vial. See if it gives us any leads as to location. It would appear that she was behind the murders, after all.”

She looked at him quizzically. “And how are you going to do that?”

“You’ll need to lift the patch for me. I’m taking a swab,” he informed, curling his hand in the air until a different vial, this time capped with a skull, appeared as though a magician was summoning something from beneath his sleeves. As Stein popped the cap off with a thumb, reaching inside for the, undoubtedly, sterile swab housed inside, Marie reached up to her face. The majority of what had been on her face had been wiped away thanks to Rosalie, but her eyepatch had been untouched.

She dreaded to think of the state of the flower. Especially when Stein glanced at her and couldn’t keep the wince off of his face. This time, Marie was the one who frowned.

“What? What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, his touch coming out, hesitant and almost tentative, but with the steadfastness of a surgeon. As his gloved fingertips touched the petals of her flower, she felt a jolt of electricity hum up her spine, as though he were roving his touch up her back from the inside. The flower was connected to all her magic, every part of her that was divine and different. The buzz of her soul, of her power, trailed in the veins of the beautiful bloom that came out of the empty socket of her eye.

It felt like he was holding her very soul in his hands, like he had a grasp on her heart itself, the organ alive and beating and golden.

Stein moved the petal around in his touch of a moment as though captivated, and she swore she could feel it humming through her, his touch everywhere, as though sacred.

Their eyes had connected again as her mouth popped open, her lower lip quaking as she shuddered in his grasp.

“You’re. . .wilting,” he said, and she gasped as though pained, moving out of his hold immediately, her palm coming up to cover the flower. Against her skin, she could feel how the petals were drooping, and she was colder there than she ever had been before.

“Marie-“

“I’ll be fine,” she said, though whether it was for her benefit or his own, neither of them knew. Stein’s frown grew deeper, his brows meeting closer to the middle.

“Marie, if you’re hurt-“

“Just take the damn sample, Stein. We have a job to do,” she said, shoving every sign of mourning down in her body as best she could, freezing her voice. And it must have jolted something in him, because his entire expression shut down for a moment before he nodded, and only then did she let her palm drop, avoiding his prying gaze as he ran the swab over her petals, trying to soak up every ounce of the liquid.

Marie closed her eye, shuddering as the swab passed closer to the center of the flower of her eye.

* * *

Things had been boring for the next few days as Stein worked in the corner of what would usually be the living room, and Marie occupied almost all of her time in the small room with the uncomfortable mattress that she had called dibs on, feeling useless.

There was little to do in the human realm, but for the first time in weeks, she didn’t much mind. Stein had strongly urged her to remain in bed for as long as she could, considering that, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was still weak, and certainly drained of magic.

Even when he thought he’d gotten somewhere and called her into the living room where he was working, asking her to tell him about that night in the alleyway and she tried to summon her vines to paint a more vivid picture, she could feel how just that simple act was pulling at her.

She thinks he knew, too, even if he made no comment regarding how sluggish her plants were moving, even as he stole obvious looks at the flower that was slowly regaining vitality in her skull.

At the very least, she told herself, he was being polite.

* * *

It was at the end of the week that Stein had finally made a discovery, but it was only with her help, something she couldn’t help but be proud of. He’d managed to break down the components of the vial, clearly a poison, but had been having a hard time identifying it all. She’d stumbled into the living room, intent on making some tea, when she saw him practically chuck the textbook he was flipping through into the wall.

“What did the neighbors ever do to you?” she asked, forcing a smile on her face.

“Nice to know that you’ve recovered enough to be irritating,” he snapped, and she blinked at him in surprise.

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning? You don’t have to be a jackass,” she said, upset that the hurt was seeping into her voice. She knew, of course, that they were only on this project because they were assigned, but she could have sworn they’d been getting closer.

He sighed frustratingly, putting his head in his hands. “I’m no closer to identifying this fucking potion than when I first started working on it,” he muttered out, and Marie traced the tense line of his shoulders with his gaze, feeling the almost overwhelming urge to reach out and massage the stress away.

She shook her head, clenching her fists tight, ashamed at what she had just thought. The romantic movies that she had occupied herself with were getting to her, and she made sure to furl her fingers in tightly so that she wasn’t even tempted to touch him.

“Would you like help?”

“Have at it,” he said, shoving the book toward her, as well as the paper with his chicken scratch all over it, identifying the various chemicals that he’d managed to isolate in the potion. Marie’s eye was soft as she focused on him, but she moved forward to grab the scrap of paper he’d written on, reading it thoroughly.

When she reached the middle, however, she stopped, looking over the phrase that Stein had circled.

“. . .why’d you isolate this one?” she asked, and Stein sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I can’t locate what it is.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me, earlier?” she asked, looking down at how he was slumped in his chair just as he looked up at her, as well.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember what Lord Death said? I can identify ingredients in potions.”

“. . .you know what it is?”

“Of course I know what it is. It’s a plant. A specific one.”

The way Stein looked at her, it was as though she had brought in the sunlight on a frigid day.

“And. . .would this specific plant have a specific location?”

Marie let a small smile grace her face. “Yes,” she started, her voice cheerful. And I can locate just where it is, too.

“So, what you’re telling me is we have a lead?”

“I guess you were right,” she told him, ignoring how his entire expression had lit up at the fact that they had a clue. “We really did find something that led us to Medusa when we decided to split up.”

“Yes,” he remarked. “Though, for future reference, let’s keep our physical maiming to minimal levels.”

She figured it was the closest he was going to get to admitting that he was nervous as to how she’d fared after the assault.

Maybe he was growing soft on her, after all. 


	3. Chapter 3

Marie was shuffling her feet more than usual as they walked, and he had looked over at her more time than he wanted to admit. Yet, every time he did so, she’d cut her gaze over to him and the intensity of her stare always made him look away, focusing more on the trees around them.

It was welcoming to be back in a forest, frankly. The industrial world of the modern era wore on him. The noise and the pollution, the massive, horseless carriages which he had come to know as “cars” and the particularly rude people with their particularly peculiar accents grated on his nerves. Here, in a forest, he was more at peace.

Marie seemed to be, as well, and he would have been more surprised if she wasn’t. This was her world. He was the one who ruled over the dead, the darkness. And they may have been traveling in the cradle of midnight, but they were still in a land where the earth smelled clean and alive.

It didn’t seem to do much for her general disposition, though he could see, in his quick glances at her, that her shoulders had relaxed, softening slightly so they weren’t so stiff when she walked.

When he started noticing the state of her shoulders, he didn’t know. When he started caring was a more prying question, one that kept him distracted as he walked, working off of muscle memory alone.

That wasn’t to say that he was off guard. He was ever-aware of all souls around him.

Living or dead.

Buildings, however, he was less apt at. Which was why, as he kept walking, his head in the metaphorical clouds, pondering just when he started feeling less hostile toward his partner and more concerned, he would have slammed into the magical barrier had it not been for Marie’s small, capable hands reaching out to grasp his elbow.

Marie’s voice was barely a whisper. “Careful,” she muttered, and he could feel her fingers tightening around him. “It’s protected.”

He looked down at her, his eyes seeming to glow in the darkness as he took in her face. She looked pale, a far cry from the original sun-kissed glow that she had when he first met her. Perhaps the poison thrown in her face was affecting her more than she was going to let on.

“Marie-” he began, but she only let go of him and pushed him back gently. He wondered for a brief moment if she would be able to push him any stronger, considering the state she was in. The darkness beneath her eye was visible to him even with barely any light from the moon illuminating her.

“I can break it pretty easily,” she responded simply, kneeling down. Both her knees settled into the dirt and he took a step back, allowing her to work, though one hand discretely came to the bone scythe strapped to his back. He was irritated at himself, at the fact that he wanted to breathe out a “be careful”.

She was a goddess. She didn’t need his concern. And, frankly, he shouldn’t have any, either. She wouldn’t have been put on an assignment if Lord Death didn’t consider her able. Then again, the strength and vitality she had in the beginning had certainly waned.

And he was, for all intents and purposes, Lord Death, now.

Regardless, he watched her with more critical eyes as she took in a deep breath. Her dress didn’t hide much, her mortal clothes in a pack strapped to his side, along with his own clothes, and a mirror to contact Lord Death with, and he could see the way her spine flexed beneath her skin. After a moment, she brought her fingers to the earth, digging the tips in slightly and closed her eye, her skin seeming to glow.

He took his eyes off of her to watch the barrier, instead, and it pulsed in protest as though furious at being compromised. He watched as it thinned, the green of it becoming more and more translucent before cracks began to appear, starting where Marie was kneeling and traveling upward.

Marie’s eye snapped open just as she gave off one final flash of golden light and the entire barrier snapped beneath the pressure she was exuding.

He was so focused on how the shards fell away, seemingly fluttering to the ground in a fine mist of glittering chunks that he didn’t notice how Marie wobbled to her feet, almost falling forward.

“Well,” she said, and only then did he look at her, taking in the building before them. “I’d say this looks just a little suspicious.”

He lifted a brow, looking beyond her to the abandoned, creaking area before them. Moss was growing between the bricks, and the door was off its hinges, giving off an eerie noise.

“Yeah,” he replied dryly. “Just a bit.”

* * *

Any sense of relaxation that Marie’d had when walking through the forest had promptly disappeared the instant she stepped into the abandoned building. It was hard to blame her considering it was creepy with a capital C, and that was coming from him, who Spirit had once referred to as the king of darkness.

He still took offense to that.

Regardless, Marie huddled closer to him and the flowers twined into her hair seemed to flatten close to her scalp as though she were a cat and they were ears. And instead of finding it annoying it was almost endearing on her, her body coming so close to his own that he could throw his arm over her shoulders and tuck her against his side.

He refrained for obvious reasons.

“I don’t like this place,” she said, her singular eye swiveling around in her socket, trying to make up for the fact that she was blind on one side. For his part, he kept one hand on the shaft of his scythe, ready to pull it out into a defensive stance at the first sign of danger. He hummed as though to acknowledge Marie’s opinion, and if he moved in just the tiniest bit closer to her, neither of them would ever say.

The hair on the back of his neck was standing up straight. There was something thick in the air, the darkness in the building seeming far too dense to be normal. The wind whipped through the open door and the unsealed windows, his footsteps near silent as they stepped into the house.

Something about the place reeked of death, and not in the normal way. He smelled and sensed death in every corner of the world. It was in the massive, speeding cars on the streets and on the people he passed. It was in the pizza places they had walked into for sustenance and the bookstores and libraries he had holed himself up in, reading history book after history book, the pages musty with untold stories of peoples eradicated from the face of the planet.

But in that place, in the abandoned, crumbling building, it was so noxious he could barely breathe. Marie shuddered next to him, the line of her shoulders harsh, her spine ramrod straight as she turned her head periodically, trying to take in the gloom.

“Hey,” he started, partly for himself and partly to ease her, “could you light up the place?”

“I thought darkness was your domain, Mr. Gloom and Doom,” she replied, and he was thankful that she at least had enough comfort to snark with him. He almost smirked, though there was just enough of the razor sharp danger to keep him from doing so. His voice was but a wisp, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“It is, Tinkerbell. You can’t see a damn thing, though.”

Marie made a soft, scoffing noise, so close to him he could hear it plain as day. Could hear the mild affection of it, too. “You know, I liked you better before you absorbed all the modern language.”

“Ditto,” he said, but he felt a slight chill pass through him as he continued walking. His voice turned serious almost immediately. “If you can’t see, leave.”

“Why? Do you sense something?” she asked, her voice growing tense as she prepared to fight.

He hummed once more, his shoulders hunching up around his ears and his grip on his scythe tightening. After a moment, he felt the warmth of her glow come over his skin, and he almost wanted to sigh in relief. It was so welcoming after the near poisonous atmosphere that he nearly melted toward her, catching himself only at the last possible moment.

It was a good thing, too, because he would have careened right into the stairs, and he figured that they couldn’t withhold any sort of pressure from someone of his size, considering they were rotting in most places.

Though, perhaps they could withstand pressure from someone of a far less imposing height and build.

Marie looked over at him just as he looked down at her, the two of them likely getting the same idea, because she scowled immediately.

“No. Nope. No way. No chance. I’m not going up there alone.”

“If you hadn’t noticed,” he replied, “I’d break those the instant I step on them.”

“Then lose some weight! Who do I look like? Some sort of Indiana Jones?”

“Lara Croft, maybe.”

“You’re crazy. This place just screams danger. What if my flowers get hurt?”

“That’s what you’re concerned with?”

Marie groaned, closing her eye. In the darkness, she looked like a beacon, her skin giving off a soft, tender glow around her, as though a halo of some sort.

“This assignment is going to kill me,” she muttered, glaring at him for a moment before she promptly turned around and hesitated in front of the steps. “If I die,” she started, looking over her shoulder, “let it be known that I blame you.”

“I’m honored. Are you leaving your potted plant to me?”

“Not even in your dreams,” she told him, huffing and staring forward once more.

He felt the chuckle bubble up from somewhere in his chest before it fizzed out as he glanced at her back. Her hands were curled into fists, her arms tense.

“Marie. . .If you aren’t back in five minutes, I’m taking the building down.”

Marie turned to look back at him once more. There was surprise in her eye, but there was something else, too.

He could have sworn that her lips tipped up, just slightly, before she turned back around, setting her foot onto the first stair and clambering up.

“Ditto,” she echoed, and he watched the way her hips swayed as she clambered up the stairs.

Only when she was out of the vicinity and he could hear her tentative footsteps from the floor above him did he turn away, looking around the living room.

“Ditto, huh?” he muttered.

What a peculiar woman.

* * *

Maybe Lord Death was on to something when he paired Marie with him because without her, navigating the house became more and more of an irritation, and he had bumped into at least three chairs in the span of two minutes and he was just in the kitchen.

Honestly, it seemed as though there was nothing in the place worthy of a magical spell. He doubted that anyone would be that into some crumbling brick and mortar, but magical beings were strange at the best of times.

Death, he hoped they weren’t trespassing for no reason. It reminded him too much of being a boy, back when he was human, and his mother had to come fetch him after he’d climbed his neighbor's cherry tree, stuffing himself full with the sweet, red fruit and not being fast enough to climb up higher, out of sight. The scolding, not to mention ear grabbing he was subject to wasn’t worth it even in the slightest.

Now that he was a god, temporarily or otherwise, he was no more a fan of punishment than when he was human. And magical beings were vindictive and protective and petty.

Speaking of, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned the corner and nearly ran into Marie, the woman letting loose a small squeak as she fell against the wall. His hand immediately whipped out, grasping her shoulder to steady her as his voice dropped.

“What the fuck?” he whispered out, his heart hammering in her chest. “We agreed on warnings!”

“No, we didn’t,” she managed to scrape out, unable to resist the urge to prove him wrong, even when she seemed spooked out of her mind.

“It was unspoken. How did you get down here? I didn’t hear you on the stairs?”

It took him far too long to realize that he was staring into her eye intently, his fingers still curled over her shoulder. She blinked at him, likely not meaning to bat her eyelashes but still doing so, and he cleared his throat before he moved his palm off of her, purposefully looking to the side. 

“I. . .I don’t know,” she said, sounding both confused and a little hurt. “I just. . .opened a door and got here.”

“A door? Where?” he asked, looking around, only catching the way her brows met in the middle when he glanced over at her to look to her side.

“What do you mean, where? Right. . .here-” she started, pointing behind her.

But there was nothing there. Just a wall, equally as crumbled and decayed and in the same ugly, dirty shade of lavender as the rest of the building.

“Okay, that’s creepy. I really don’t like this place.”

“It’s alive,” he muttered. “It changes.”

“Please, don’t.”

“No, I’ve read about these,” he said, looking at her. “That’s why it’s magically protected. It morphs.”

She looked up at him, taking a step closer and peering around. “Lovely.”

“Perfect for hiding something.”

“Or someone?”

“We would have sensed a soul. Nothing is breathing in this building,” he told her, the reassurance ringing out, obvious even to his own ears.

“So. . .it’s like a safe?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do we do about it?”

“We find the door that leads to whatever this home is hiding.”

“. . .splendid.”

* * *

Twelve doors later, they ended up going in at least fifteen circles.

Until they, rather literally walked into the one that would properly open for them, knocking it askew and revealing a creepy, shadowed room that made Marie suck in a harsh breath.

When he focused forward, he saw just what she was concerned about, and his mouth tightened into a grimace.

No good.

“I guess someone must have tried to set the place on fire,” she said, her eye wide as she took in the charred remains of a desk, multiple papers scattered around the singular desk.

“Yes, well, who can blame them?” he asked, walking forward and looming over the desk. He heard Marie bite back a “careful” and instead of irritated, he was. . .thankful for her concern.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “Stay there.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she breathed, but remained in place as his gloved hands slowly reached out to move the pages.

And it was then that he determined that the universe hated him. Because the instant he moved the crumbling, dusty pages, managing to get a good look at two drawings, one of something that looked like a shrine with a lock shaped like a soul, red and molten, and the other of a key of souls, he heard the house rumble.

Of all the things to displease the enchanted building, it was touching some paper that set it off? It was official. It was more than official. He had committed some previous misdeeds and was now being punished for it.

Maybe this was what they got for trespassing.

He heard Marie take a step back, sucking in a harsh breath that sounded decidedly like his name, and he heard the house groan in displeasure once more.

It was only when the floor beneath him wobbled that he connected the dots, the dust kicking up as the very building, the very Earth itself seemed to quake.

“Franken!” Marie called out, running forward and throwing him to the side, practically slamming into him and breaking his ribs with the force. They rolled for a few moments before he hit the wall, wheezing out and taking the hit for the two of them and feeling his hood come over his eyes, blinding him temporarily.

“What the-”

Marie shrieked once more as she scrambled to her feet, and he threw his arm up, shoving his hood off so he could see and immediately taking note of the fact that the house was collapsing.

Right on top of them.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His mind blanked as Marie grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise, and he scraped his knees as she dragged him up and toward the exit. She was so small but so powerful that she managed to haul him a good ten feet without problem at all. He had managed to find his footing just as she passed the threshold, and he could see the exit in sight. Marie barreled through the tables and managed to shove the couch out of the way.

There was no “path of least resistance” when it came to Marie. There was only obliterating everything in her way, and he felt more than thankful that she was taking him with her because suddenly, his arms and legs had gone as strong as jelly in the presence of the crumbling house. The image he had seen, the key, the souls, the shrine, seemed to wail eerily through him, and he was relying more on Marie than he would have liked. She was pale and tired and she looked like a ghost of a woman, a shroud that was taking him to salvation.

And, if they had made it past the door, he would have considered it an apt comparison.

Instead, however, he could practically feel the entire building give one last groan, one final lament before it, promptly and gracelessly, fell upon them.

And the only thing he heard was her screaming.

* * *

He was running on muscle memory, on instinct. He had shoved everything out of his head, his vision swimming, his lungs full of dust and debris.

The world was falling around his ears and Marie was so very vulnerable. The fact that she was a goddess left his head, the fact that she had helped him, prior, completely eradicated. All he felt was his pulse in his ears and the desperate overwhelming urge to keep her safe. Marie who had gently tended to the near dying plants wherever they went, who had cut upon one of her friends, one of her plants, to ease his headaches on their travels, who snarked with him and stuck her tongue out at him and who saved him in the crumbling belly of the house.

His cloak must have come around him like a dark cloud, eradicating any light, as opaque as deep water and a starless sky, and when he threw himself atop Marie and shoved them both to the ground, his arms grabbed her so close to his chest he wondered if she could even breathe. He heard her calling out his name, her soft, small fingers curling against his shirt as he covered her with his cloak and his body, both. He managed to settle upon his knees so he wasn’t completely suffocating her, but her face was pressed against his chest, one of his hands coming to thread through her hair as he grasped the back of her head, cushioning her from slamming her head against the ground.

And the world howled. He tucked his head down, his hood coming over his hair once more as he grunted, feeling the crumbling rock and brick of the home fall upon them.

Or, rather, fall upon him.

“Franken!” Marie yelled, but she was muffled by his shirt. He felt her shriek more than he heard it as the entire house crumbled, giving off a loud crack.

“Stay down!” he managed to gasp out, but it was cut off at the end with a pained cry as a portion of the upper floor slammed against his back. His knees buckled, protesting entirely, and Marie’s golden, precious hands grasped his shirt and pulled him even closer to her until his body was pressed to her own.

It helped, a bit. Marie had a healing influence about her, especially when she was glowing, and feeling her warmth filter into him helped heal some of the pain just as it started to blossom. The roof tiles hit his shoulders, smacking with loud echoes as Marie wailed his name once more.

Partially, however, it was just her. She smelled like vanilla and sunshine, her hair was soft and tickled his jaw, her nails, blunted, scraping over his chest from behind his shirt. He had never been so close to her, before, and now, she overwhelmed each of his senses. Her gentle glow, her concerned cries, her warm, pleasing scent.

It couldn’t completely distract him, but it certainly helped, and he was unsure if the world was still trembling when the house had finished collapsing because she was shaking so hard beneath him. He groaned, flexing his spine experimentally as though to determine if anything was broken, and he could hear her usually kind voice tip up into a frantic, muffled soprano.

“-stupid! What were you thinking?” he heard just as he managed to bring himself up on his forearms, gasping in pain.

When he looked down at her, something in his chest clenched.

She was okay. Marie. She was alright. Safe. Not hurt at all. She was pale and wane and looked like she’d been spooked half to death, but she was free of harm and he sighed in relief, though it was more of a rasp than anything else, quickly turning into a pained inhale when he felt her hands leave his chest. One came to his face, instead, her fingertips prodding over his cheekbones, crawling up to his temple and the back of his head, checking for a concussion as the other explored his back, feeling for blood and fractures.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, again, her eye wide and fearful and concerned and he almost wanted to laugh though it would be the least appropriate thing to do at the moment. Really, it was all too intimate, hovering over her on his shaking legs as she explored him for wounds with what he could only call a lover’s touch.

He was delirious from pain, his world swimming and blurring, but her face remained in focus, a shining wetness coming over her eye before she blinked rapidly and threw herself forward against him with a grunt.

Stein almost fell to the side, but he managed to stabilize just as her fingers tangled in his hair and her other hand fisted his cloak and she pressed him against her as she brought her face to his neck in a full bodied hug. He gasped, his wrists screaming at him from holding himself up in a straddle over her, but he could hear her muttering about how stupid he was and he felt warm from toes to scalp as he murmured out her name.

He felt the world wobble when she pulled away, gently pushing at him and he went without protest, letting her roll him to his back, though he winced.

“Shhhh, I know, I know,” she said, soothingly, and he didn’t even have it in him to tease her. “I’m here, okay?” she assured him, and he felt her reach for the pack on his side where she kept her plants and her homemade medicines, one of her hands stroking his hair as though to distract him.

“I’m,” he started, gasping out, “not a child.”

“Shhhh,” she repeated, finally finding a vial of whatever she was looking for and leaning over him. “I need you to drink this.”

He winced away from the very idea. The last time he’d had one of her concoctions, purely out of curiosity, it almost made him vomit. He suspects his stomach had turned inside out along with the rest of his intestinal tract.

“‘m fine,” he scraped out, barely making out her scowl, but instead of an angry, frustrated reply, she softened almost immediately.

“Franken. . .please?” she asked.

Fuck. There was absolutely no reason for him to be leaning into her touch, softening under her pleading, but he sighed through his nose, anyway.

It was because he was hurt, he reminded himself. Because he was in pain and he knew, logically, that her medicine would make him feel better. That was it. That was all. That was why he let her lift his head, gently setting it back onto her lap as she folded herself over him, glowing so golden that he suspects the stars would be blotted out from the light pollution of her alone. That was why he let her bring the vial to his lips, why he complied and opened his mouth, grimacing.

That was why he turned his head, burying his face against her belly as he shook.

That was it. That was all.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Nothing else. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Now isn’t that simply adorable,” a voice called out, and Marie whipped her head up, eye wide as she scrambled upward, pushing Stein away from her as her vines clambering around her as though a defensive cage.

For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. The dust had settled

“You were here this entire time?” Marie asked, settling her feet wide as she brought herself into a defensive stance before Stein, who was attempting to stand as well, groaning in pain.

“Mmm, might have been,” Medusa replied, smiling at her with not a speck of honesty upon her face.

Marie’s face darkened. “What the fuck was that? Did you cause that?”

“What? Bring the house down? It seems the two of you are plenty capable of causing destruction as well.”

“Not nearly as much as you have! Why? Why have you been doing this? Murdering humans. . .using _my_ plants for your disgusting potions?”

“You’d know all about those potions, wouldn’t you, _girl_? Are you still feeling the aftereffects? How is your magic faring?” Medusa asked, though the questions were as condescending as they could possibly come. Marie didn’t even grace the other goddess with a wince, though the vines around her seemed to coil more angrily. “What? No snarky remarks?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Marie grit out, hearing Stein rustle around as though trying to stand. Her potion could only speed healing, not make him better instantaneously, but Marie wasn’t above stalling for as long as she could. In the state she was in, she could only keep up her façade of being at full strength for so long.

She hoped it would be enough.

“Why? For fun, of course!” Medusa said. “Though, how simple you are for asking such a predictable question! Not nearly as much fun as your. . .partner, I’m sure.”

“That’s not a good reason!” Marie said, her blood boiling at the idea that so much destruction had been caused simply because of boredom, or entertainment.

“And you are the authority on such? You Mother Nature types are all the same, never any fun. So wrapped up in your stupid Good and Evil dichotomy. Though- oh! Stop me if I do say any words too big for you to process.”

Medusa’s grin was curved like the blade of a guillotine, her eyes slivers, snakelike and dangerous.

Marie snarled, her lips curling as her hands began to glow gold with the fury of her magic as it began to unfurl. “Why have you been doing this, Medusa?”

“Marie-“ Stein began, but Marie only flicked her wrist and her vines knotted together to form a barrier, preventing him from getting through, mostly for his own protection from Medusa. Marie’s potions were strong, but with how hurt Stein was, there was no chance he was strong enough to face her, just yet.

“Stay back, Stein!”

“Now, now! There’s no need to hide him away from the world,” Medusa said, and her eyes zeroed in on the small spaces that the vines couldn’t fill. Stein’s form showed in slight glimpses of black and grey, in tired, paled green eyes.

“Answer my question, Medusa!” Marie demanded. “Why have you been doing this?”

“Why? Because I want to, girl! Because Asura will be reborn and I may roam as I always have.”

“Asura? You. . .what do you mean?”

“Oh, have you never heard of him, girl? Did your God think so little of you that he would arm you with so little?”

“Don’t speak of him that way!”

“I will speak of him any way I choose! And you have grown on my last nerve, child. You and your ignorance! Though, how amusing, that your god wouldn’t even tell you of his own _son_.”

“S-son?” Marie asked, but was cut off by Medusa’s call of “BoBo!” causing Marie’s brows to furrow, further confused as to what the final word meant.

She didn’t have the time to wonder for long because, as though materializing from the shadows themselves, a massive, dark tail came out and caught her against her midsection. Marie coughed harshly, her entire body convulsing momentarily as she took a staggering step back, falling against the wall of vines she had managed to make.

“Marie!” Stein said, pressing his palm against the barrier, as though wanting to reach out and help her, but he couldn’t.

“Now, now! She’s a big girl. Let her fight her own battles!” Medusa cackled, and the tail reared back as Marie coughed wetly, the metallic taste of blood flooding into her mouth as her vision blacked. When she looked up, shaking slightly, it was only enough so that she could see a massive serpent, spotted with yellow and black, Medusa’s colors, just as it opened it’s mouth wide, saliva dripping from the fangs.

“BoBo,” Medusa began, her face darkening, growing grotesque and cruel. “Lunch.”

And with that, the tail snapped back, seeming to sway in the darkness before it shuddered forward with otherworldly speed, whipping against Marie once more.

This time, when it caught against her, it brought a pained shriek from her lungs, slamming her so hard that her vines withered on contact as the pain engulfed her and she went sailing into the air, stopping her fall against the trunk of a tree.

And it practically bent back from the force, splintering and bringing wood into her arms and legs, her dress ripping.  The collision almost broke her in half, brought every nerve ending to the surface of her skin. And though her head felt as though it were swimming, Marie could still make out the amused laughter that could have only come from Medusa, as well as a pained shriek of “Marie!?” that had to have come from Stein.

Marie couldn’t move for a moment, her muscles struggling, knotting even the slightest movement.

“Is that truly all it takes to defeat you, girl? You’re even less than I previously expected!” Medusa chortled, seemingly delighted at the state Marie had been brought to, and Marie barely had the time to process it before the serpent came surging forward and she had to drop to the ground, rolling fast underneath the belly to avoid the teeth snapping where her torso would have been, listening in to Stein’s concerned calls, but unable to focus on anything more than keeping herself alive.

* * *

“So worried!” Medusa said. “You should watch your own hide!”

And, with that, Stein fell back, his cloak swirling around him as Medusa brought her hands to her sides, crossing them in front of her, cracking her shoulders. As she flexed her fingers, he heard them pop, the very air wobbling before her as she morphed before his eyes, her hands elongating until her nails seemed to glow.

It was different from Marie’s glow, certainly not as gentle. Where Marie was sunlight, Medusa was radioactive. Her skin seemed almost sickly with the color, shifting into the slightest shimmer of green.

He hated being on defense, desperate to hold his ground. His back still protested, his spine locking up as he shifted. Regardless, his hands pressed forward and he concentrated as hard as he could to summon the scythe that was almost as familiar to him as his own heartbeat was.

Medusa smiled sharply as the weapon formed in front of him, and he grabbed the shaft with both hands, twirling it in his grasp.

“My my, that’s quite a large. . .scythe you’ve got there,” the woman purred out, but Stein’s expression remained stony while her fingers glowed gold, a dagger having been materialized between them. The two of them locked eyes for a moment, neither seemingly willing to attack first. Stein, due to his injuries, and Medusa because of her sadism.

She was the kind who liked to play with her food. He knew.

But he always did hate to play the defense. And if she was willing to underestimate him, he was certainly not about to take her generosity for granted.

As silent as a shadow, Stein whipped forward, intent on ending the fight as quickly as possible.

He thought he might have been able to get her, but she brought her arms up to block him, and his scythe fell against her bracelets, causing a sick clink to echo out. For a moment, he was reminded of the Wonder Woman that he had read about, and couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that Medusa had dug her bare feet into the earth and held her ground against him without, seemingly, breaking a sweat.

“Death certainly hasn’t trained you much, fledgling!” Medusa said, shoving back against the pressure of the scythe and grinning. “But, of course, he didn’t even tell you about Asura!”

“It wasn’t important to the assignment!” Stein defended, trying to win out in the power struggle even as Medusa laughed.

“So you don’t want to know? Are you truly so glad to be ignorant?”

Stein glared at her, his eyes flashing as he locked his knees. “I will know all I need once you’re dead-“

“Do you truly believe that, fledgling? That your God will spare any information at all?”

“I believe that you’d be better off dead,” Stein replied, and Medusa smiled at him with all the charm of a snake.

“Don’t you want to know, Stein? Learn the truth as to why your God assigned his cloak to you? Don’t you want to find out about his son? About his secrets?”

“Shut up-“

“Don’t you want to herald in the new order? See what happens? How dreadfully bored you must be, following the rules!”

“If there is anything human science has taught me, it is that progress is never achieved through retrograde!” Stein said, finally tiring of their pointless power struggle. Instead, he used his massive stature to his advantage, curling his knee up and hitting Medusa in the side, winding her and overpowering the struggle, sending her back a few feet and going to cut her in half with the blade of his bone scythe. Medusa let out a pained grunt, but ducked just in time to avoid the hit, crouching close to the ground. Beneath her, an arrow began to form, swirling before it propelled her forward so that she could attack him.

“Big toy!” Medusa commented, curling her fingers into claws and swiping out, almost catching him with her nails. “But you have no idea how to use it!”

Stein leapt back, falling into a sloppy crouch, almost toppling as Medusa ran at him, her dagger twirling between her fingers before she threw it at him, aiming for his arm. Stein gasped, deflecting at the last possible moment with his scythe, but Medusa had followed a different path to him, merely occupying him with the danger of the dagger. Because her feet whipped out, sneaking beneath his scythe’s defense and slamming into his chest, crushing the air out of him.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you?” Medusa started, supporting herself on one hand as she aimed her kick upward, hitting him in the chin and sending him fully on his back. “It isn’t the size that matters?”

Stein groaned as Medusa kicked his scythe away, and he heard it clatter somewhere, off in the distance, likely where Marie was still fighting with that oversized garden snake. Before he knew it, Medusa had conjured what looked to be arrows, and they swirled around him, as though ready to start up a demon summoning circle.

But, instead, they twined over his arms, dark, liquid-like arrows that glowed purple on the very edges, and held him down as thoroughly as if he had been sewed to the ground. Medusa stepped forward with all the casual grace of a woman who knew she had all the time in the world.

“It’s a shame Death didn’t come for me, himself,” Medusa started, looming over Stein with a smirk. “But at the least, his replacement is fun to look at.”

Stein growled at her, feeling more animal than God. Feeling more animal than man, even.

“You know, you could join me, fledgling,” Medusa offered, and she kneeled beside him, her eyes half-lidded, tempting. “Poison and Death were always meant to be. Not like you and that useless girl parading around as a legitimate goddess.”

Stein struggled in the restraints she had made for him, almost hissing. “Fuck you,” he cursed, and her lips curled up even more at the edges.

“So passionate! I can’t wait to break that out of you! Oh, the best thing about this is that you don’t have much of a choice, fledgling,” Medusa simpered, and before his very eyes, he watched as a syringe slipped from beneath her sleeve, the concoction inside a thick looking sludge. “Just lay back and relax.”

His breathing had already picked up, his heart pounding inside of his ribcage with the force of a fist through brick, and he watched as the needle descended, as though in slow motion until-

until-

until it was knocked out of her hands, a sharp cry echoing through seemingly the entire forest. It was an unearthly keen, the kind that brought every hair on his body to stand on edge, and he listened as Marie cried out “Medusa!” with all the poison that the goddess herself could have created.

“Don’t you touch him!” Marie screamed out, and the ground beneath him rumbled as he heard Marie’s feet hit the ground, forcing the very tectonic plates to shift.

Medusa sneered.

“This doesn’t include you, girl-“

But Marie had already summoned her vines around her, her entire body glowing so brightly, it was as though she were entering into supernova, heating up and spinning out of control.

“Marie-“ Stein tried to warn, having dislodged enough that he could turn to look at her, but it wasn’t enough to warn her as Medusa wailed out: “BoBo!”

Stein would assume that Marie was getting rather tired of the damn serpent, but just as she turned to look behind her, BoBo hissed, the sound like a death knell.

And then the very earth broke open beneath them.

* * *

The rubble had produced a thicker dust than before, and Stein blamed it for his dulled senses. He blamed almost anything other than his own ineptitude. How could he not hear Marie’s sharp, pained gasps, how she curled, clutching herself close, furled in on herself as though fetal? How could he ignore the way her soul wavered, her reliable, powerful soul? Maybe it was because the both of them had been thrown down into the bottom of what appeared to be some sort of cavern as Medusa’s voice sing songed in their ears, some sort of demented lament of “Come and get me, fledgling”.

Maybe it was simply because he was so used to Marie’s solidity, so accustomed to how strong she was.

Marie was a force of nature, embodying not only plants, but the vitality of all things living. Marie had only ever been powerful, squared shoulders, a set jaw, showing her strength in every moment he spent with her.

And now, she let loose small whines of pain, little wheezes of cut off sounds, breaking against her teeth. When he blinked his eyes open, feeling as though he were made up of a skin of bruises, he thought only of himself for a moment, staring up at the dark, star-filled sky that was exposed even as they lay on the floor of the catacombs.

But then he heard her. But then, he noticed that the vines that still hung off from the top of the opening, a good 50 feet above them, were browning, disintegrating.

The world around them seemed to shrink, dying. The very moon hung in the sky was dimming.

Along with her.

The two ton brick of realization was all too heavy, as he was finally faced with the fact that Marie’s state was the farthest thing from good.

The cogs in his brain clicked once, twice, a third time before it felt like his mind finally settled and he could disconnect himself from the pain enough to gasp out, trying to find his footing.

“M-Marie? Marie!”

When he coughed he felt as though his lungs were going to come out of his esophagus, but he didn’t have the time to think about himself as Marie’s flower seemed to droop pitifully, her body shuddering and her skin pale and sickly.

Stein struggled to his knees, reaching out with shaking hands to roll her to her back, taking in her sweating, pained face.

And then he spotted it, the graze on her neck, oozing the same sickly colored liquid that was in the syringe Medusa had intended for him.

He didn’t think.

He couldn’t. Not when Marie’s chest was barely rising and falling, not when every ounce of life was being drained from her. His mouth found the wound before he could even ask himself what he was doing, draining the poison out of her.

And she let loose the most pained noise he had ever heard from her, the weak sound punctuated by a sharp intake of air as her hand came to his hair, trying to tangle in the gray locks but really only managing to settle on the back of his head as though for support.

But he didn’t stop. The poison tasted too sweet on his tongue, as though it had rotted, and he could only hope that he had moved fast enough. Quickly, and with all the efficiency of a man who knew he had barely any time to process what was happening. He pulled away from her, with his mouth tasting of blood and rot, spitting the disgusting concoction off to the side before he descended down to the wound once more, sucking the toxin out of her body.

On and on it went, the same mechanical motions of bending over her, desperate to keep her alive, desperate to feel her breathing, and then spitting what was in his mouth out to the side, leaving a small pile of poison and crimson, the world narrowing until it was only the two of them. Or, rather, just her.

It was only when he could barely taste any more of the toxin on his tongue that he slowed, only when Marie coughed and it didn’t feel as though the action would bring her all the closer to death. Her soul still pulled at him, but not in the way that a soul that was ready to be reaped would. In the way that only her soul ever had, the way that reminded him of warmth, of sunlight and belonging, of silly jokes and fierce protection.

His hand came to the side of her cheek, and Marie cracked her eye open to look up at him, opening her lips slightly so she could wheeze out his name.

“Marie. . .” he said, feeling drained and broken, but so thankful. She was alive. Marie. His partner. She was okay.

She had to leave.

She had to leave. The world be damned. She’d suffered so much already.

“Marie-“

“What. . .what happened?”

“Her snake sent us down to Middle Earth,” he joked weakly, but he was looking over her face with the tenderness of a lover. Marie did manage to crack the smallest of smiles, though it was soured by her wince.

“We. . .fell?”

“Pretty far.”

“Icarus far?” Marie joked, trying to lighten the mood as she stared up at him.

“Farther,” he replied, but the seriousness of his comment only dampened the mood, his fingers working over the skin of her cheek. “Marie. . .”

“You okay?” she asked, trying to keep herself focused.

“Fine,” he lied.

“Franken. . .”

“Fine enough to fight, Marie. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“How will you be fine if you’re already fine?” she asked, trying to bring herself up on her elbows. The pack of her potions had been thrown somewhere in the fight, nowhere in sight. Nothing to help her.

“Marie, stay down,” Stein commanded, settling back over her, realizing all too late that he was settled in a straddle above her, but not caring much as he pressed his palm to her shoulder and tried to get her to lay still.

“I can’t! She’s still out there! This could be our only chance.”

“I’ll fight her myself,” Stein insisted, and Marie’s face pinched into a frown.

“Yeah? Because that worked so great last time!”

“Marie, you’re hurt. You need to get out. Find cover, heal your wounds-“

“And abandon you? Not in this life or the next!” she answered back, passion seeming to rekindle the strength in her.

“Marie-“

“I won’t see you throw your damn life away, Stein! Don’t be an idiot! You can’t win against her by yourself.”

“You’re injured-“

“And so are you, damnit! We’re stronger together than apart and you know it!”

At that, he could only look at her, silently, the conflicting emotions swirling in his eyes even as the rest of him remained stony. Marie looked off to the side as though ashamed of her outburst, but then she stared back at him, her stern expression softening.

“I’m not leaving you, Franken. Over my dead body.”

“You know, that might prove prophecy.”

“Then I go willingly. We have a job to do, remember?”

And he could say nothing.

She was right. He grit his teeth together as he nodded, settling back and moving to stand, though his very bones protested the movement. Slowly, he reached out to help Marie up, but instead of grasping his hand, she wrapped her hand around his wrist, touching his bare skin.

And he remembered the first time she had done so, the way her touch had jolted through him. How long it had been since anyone had touched him at all. Without any hesitation, he cupped her elbow, helping her stand and saying nothing even as she leaned against him, keeping her body weight as light as she possibly could.

As they faced the abyss, together, he didn’t let go of her.

If they go to Death, at least they do it with each other as company.

* * *

The caverns were dark and winding, but Stein could follow the bloodlust with ease. Despite the both of them being injured, and with no potions to help heal them or speed the process, they could at least feed off of one another’s energy. Marie glowed with the soft light of her magic as it welled up in her, building even if it was weak. The aftereffects of the first poison she’d experienced, that had wilted the bloom in her eye socket and kept her in bed for a week, was still coursing through her, keeping her sluggish, and the newest poison certainly wasn’t going to help her, either.

Were she anyone else, he had no doubt in his mind that she would simply wither away, turn to ash in the wind, ash in his hands.

But she didn’t, Marie. She stood to her full, unimpressive height of four feet and eight inches with dignity, locking her knees as she walked as though to support the both of them.

He wished that she knew that she wasn’t facing this alone, but she was lighting up the hallways, eliminating the darkness and keeping the shadows clinging close to the corners. And they had wandered for so long, trying to follow Stein’s soul perception as best they could, that they did not expect the end of the path, where there was just a boulder.

And Stein felt the bloodlust thickly.

He took in a deep breath.

“There,” he said, simply, and Marie stared forward.

“Right past this point?” she asked, her eye sharp and focused, turning her head just barely to see Stein nod. “Fine. If that’s the case.”

And it was the only warning she gave before she let go of him, stepping forward as though into a lunge before she curled her fist up and it glowed so brightly that he swore it was humming. He couldn’t help but appreciate the line of her body, how her spine curved, her muscles moving obviously beneath her skin as she mustered up her strength and then slammed her fist forward, shattering the rock on contact.

As impressed as he was, the feat was somewhat overshadowed by the fact that the massive room she had given entryway to housed what seemed to be several hundred souls, and he felt his belly bottom out as he stepped forward, the breath in his body constricted.

Before him, there were countless souls suspended in midair, their beautiful blue auras flashing out as though crying for help, and Stein brought his hands forward, the familiar surge of magic he used to summon his bone scythe coursing down his arms. It was as though he had been completely pulverized, but he still had a job to do. Come morning, his bruises would be mottled in yellows and purples and greens, but for the moment, he didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that.

He was the Reaper while Death was recovering and this? This was his job. To usher these souls, trapped on Earth, to the afterlife.

It was the perfect bait, the fact that he was mesmerized by the floating orbs, by their silent pull toward him. And he walked into the room, his shoulders back, scythe brought before him.

“Stein! No! Look out-“ Marie screamed, but she was cut off by the laughter just as a vector arrow showed up beneath his feet, and Stein gasped, almost dropping his scythe as he was shoved backward with the force of a tidal wave.

Truthfully, his body probably couldn’t handle another massive collision. A God he may be, but he wasn’t invincible, and he would have probably broken his spine had it not been for Marie’s powerful self running to slam into him from the side, diverting his crash. Instead, she took the majority of the hit, though the both of them landed on their sides, falling against one of the walls and making the cavern shake.

Marie groaned against him, her arms strong and safe around him, and he coughed wetly, his internal organs feeling as though they had rearranged.

“Finally back? It certainly took you two long enough,” Medusa remarked, stepping forward. “But now that you’re here, perhaps you’d like to help be resurrect Asura. I do so adore teamwork.”

“Never,” Marie spat out, pushing at Stein and inspiring him to find his footing again. Though they both wobbled, they held their ground, and dragged his bone scythe before the both of them.

Medusa’s smirk didn’t indicate that she was even remotely intimidated.

“Like I said before, you don’t have much say in the matter.”

* * *

They should have known it wouldn’t be easy, not when they were both so wounded, not when they were both barely standing on their feet. Not when Medusa had murdered BoBo, his corpse off to the side, coiling around the cavern, dripping blood into what seemed to be a small moat that led to a doorway behind Medusa.

Where Asura was. Where Asura should never leave.

Stein and Marie had no choice but to think on the fly, adopting a means of fighting where they switched off attacks, one being the distraction while the other tried to land a hit. Marie was too hurt to summon her plants, the poison having smothered her powers down, and, more than once, when she sloppily evaded, barely managing to keep from being impaled, Stein wondered if she would be any help at all in the battle.

Of course, when she saved his ass on yet another occasion, keeping him from being speared through by Medusa’s dagger, he let the thought slip his head. Marie skid to his side, catching herself with her feet digging into the rock of the floor, the shoes squealing, and Stein managed to run forward and cut through a few of the arrows that Medusa was sending right at Marie’s chest, glaring as he panted.

But, even if they were worse for wear, Medusa wasn’t doing so well, either. All the smugness that she’d had in the beginning of the fight had worn off, and she had armed herself with a ring of protection, her arrows on the floor pointing away from her to try to avoid being hit, but most of the ground had been destroyed by Marie’s sheer strength, causing the arrows to break up along with it.

Marie almost fell, shaking her head as she brought herself up upon wobbling legs.

“Stop this, Medusa!” she tried to reason, but Medusa only snarled, aiming another attack at her, this time with poison dripping from the arrows. Stein barely had the time to block with his scythe, they were aimed so fast.

“You’re in no place for negotiations, girl!” Medusa replied, and the bitterness in her voice was only matched by the bloody scent in the air.

“We’ll stop you one way or another, Medusa!” Marie shrieked, ducking under Stein’s scythe and kicking the ground, her monstrous strength demolishing the ground and upsetting Medusa’s balance.

“Marie, don’t! You’re wide open!” Stein warned, but his warning fell on deaf ears. Marie was getting desperate, having lost plenty of blood herself. If they stretched the fight out any longer, there was no telling what would happen.

“There is no end to chaos!” Medusa yelled back, cut off when Marie curled her fist and punched the other woman squarely in the stomach, forcing blood out of her mouth. The internal damage alone would kill her if she didn’t get medical assistance, soon.

“Yeah?” Marie asked, punching Medusa once more and sending her to the wall, almost crushing her three feet through the wall. Medusa let out a pitiful sounding cough, her insides no doubt runny. “There’s an end to you, however.”

The relief in Marie’s voice was undeniable as she stepped forward to where Medusa had slumped into the wall, and Stein sucked in a harsh breath.

Was it. . .truly over, then? Had they done it?

He was amazed that, with neither of them able to use their magic, that they’d actually defeated the other Goddess. Marie was too heavily and Stein had never been able to master it. He was surprised that he had managed to keep it down for as long as he had. But they had won. Marie had won for them. Medusa was defeated, suspended in the wall.

Yet, the bloodlust in her soul only intensified instead of weakening.

And his eyes widened as he realized what Medusa had done, was doing, and he was running forward immediately, shouting Marie’s name. “Marie, no! She’s playing dead, look out-“ he tried to warn, but the dagger had already slipped out of Medusa’s sleeve when Marie stepped forward, intent on collecting her soul, and with a dark grin, one that showed all of Medusa’s blood teeth, she grasped the hilt until the blade oozed, and in the blink of an eye, buried it into Marie’s side.

The world stopped turning.

Marie seemed to freeze, almost as though she didn’t realize that she had been stabbed, and Stein’s mouth popped open, something unstable swirling inside of him as Medusa kicked Marie off and away from her, the blade still in her hand as Marie gushed blood, and Medusa dislodged herself off from the wall.

Marie wheezed, but Medusa seemed to have ruptured something, because when Marie went to speak, nothing came out, and she fell down, crumpling to the ground, weakly trying to say Stein’s name.

And then, he felt her soul flicker, her warm, tender, powerful soul. Weak and fragile.

When he looked at Medusa, he felt the magic inside of him swell up, his mind shutting down.

Marie. _Marie_. She was dying. Marie. How had he let that happen? How had he-

And in the background, Medusa laughed and laughed and laughed, howling for him to unleash his magic, that he never had a choice. To help her resurrect Asura but he-

he couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Marie.

 _Marie_.

Dying dying dying. His Marie. His _partner_. The only one to touch him and not wither. The only one, his only one, dying. What had he done? Why had he let her come with him? Why had he-

But the storm inside of him was breaking, the emotions cracking inside of him in a furious gale, and he was lost in it, unable to feel her soul, unable to feel himself, anymore. He had disconnected from his body, and that was the most dangerous of all. Because he was Death. He was-

He was turning the souls suspended in the cavern, in that purgatory, red. The red of Death, of rejected souls, souls never meant for rest. He was destroying everything and he couldn’t

he couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he?

Why couldn’t he think?

Why did he feel

why did he feel like the world was draining out of him? His eyesight couldn’t focus, too blurred by the magic. He felt like a tidal wave, felt like a hurricane spinning out and then

Medusa was laughing. He could hear it in every cell of his body as he went numb and felt as though something were draining out of him. Blood, sweat, life-

Magic.

His magic was draining out of him.

And it was only then that he could see Medusa standing before Asura’s door, once more, her hand pressed against a glowing orb and all his magic was siphoning into it, making the building quake.

He tried to choke out a question, but all the air in his body had drained out, and he fell to the floor, trying to breathe, trying to _live_.

“You moron! This is why Death should have never brought a damn fledgling to do a true God’s work!” Medusa laughed. “You have no clue how to control your magic!” She looked at him, watching him fall against the wall, and with a smirk, she flicked her wrist and conjured another arrow beneath his feet, sending him to the wall with a groan. “And now, it’s mine. So why don’t you just stay there like a good boy and watch me rebuild the world from the bottom up, hm?”

Medusa’s cackling filled the room and Stein slumped on the ground, barely able to lift his head and see how she was walking forward, the Death in the room having turned all the souls, previously an innocent blue, into an angry red color.

And, maybe this had been her plan the entire time. Maybe this was what she needed, for Death to fill the room, for him to slip up and stop thinking. That was what happened when he thought without his head, when he let his emotions get the better of him. The last time he had allowed that to happen, it was when he had died.

The abyss had swallowed him, then, and the world kept moving. This time, he was less sure. Marie was off to the side, still bleeding out, but looking small and pale.

It was finished. He was bleeding from his forehead, the liquid blinding him temporarily and turning the world murky. If Medusa was ushering in Asura, nothing good could come of it. He had failed Lord Death. He had failed himself. He had failed the world and his assignment.

He had failed Marie.

With what felt like the last of his strength, Stein reached out toward Medusa, as though he could do anything at all. The “Stop” that filtered from his lips was dry and pitiful.

It was the end. So he closed his eyes. So he whispered Marie’s name, as though a prayer, as though a talisman.

But the crash he heard, as well as the confused noise, did not seem like the end. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open once more and saw. . .a vine wrapped around Medusa’s ankle? The surprise welled up in him and he inhaled sharply, watching as the vine seemed to move with a renewed vitality that Marie had only had when she was first brought into the human realm.

“What?” Medusa asked, her eyes wide, and, for the first time, genuine fear and confusion coming over her. “Impossible! That should have killed you!”

And Stein sluggishly moved his head to the side, finally noticing that Marie had gotten up in the time that he had given up. Instead of near dead, she seemed to be moving with a sort of liquid grace that had never been characteristic of her before. And only after a moment did he manage to realize that she was floating above the ground, her dress, tattered and blood stained, swirling around her.

“It should have,” Marie agreed. “But you forget, you used _my_ plants in your poisons.” And though the question was asked calmly, it was almost as though Marie was asking if Medusa believed if fire could kill a dragon.

“Even still!” Medusa insisted, trying to break free of the hold Marie’s vines had on her ankle, only to watch, horrified, as more vines came to wrap around the other, and around her waist and wrists, as well, keeping her pinned. “The unstable magic he let out should have killed you, even if the poison didn’t!”

“He can’t kill me,” Marie answered, almost serenely, and Stein looked at her as though she were sunlight on the coldest day, warming him to the marrow. “I was created to counteract Death. Death cannot kill me. Even if it were to fill the entire world, he couldn’t hurt me.”

Medusa shook, fury flailing through her, but Marie was flashing bright gold, illuminating the entire room, and the souls suspended in the room seemed to shudder as well, as though taking in well needed gasps of air. The red color of them faded to a light pink before Marie’s aura purified them even further. Marie’s hair came up off of her shoulders, electricity in the very air.

“You forget, Medusa. I am Life itself.”

“Life is flimsy! Only Death is guaranteed, you stupid girl!”

“You cannot have one without the other!” Marie proclaimed, and Stein looked at her, taking in the smooth line of her shoulders, how her bruises seemed to almost melt away as she gleamed. And, for a bare moment, Marie looked at him from over her shoulder. “We’re stronger together. . .”

When their eyes locked, he knew what to do on instinct alone, feeling as though her light was flooding him with energy, filling the spaces that had previously been running on empty. When their eyes locked, he ripped his glove off and reached for her, like a starved man for sustenance.

When their eyes locked, he reached for her hand, twining them together and feeling her run her magic over her skin, run her magic inside of him. And he, inside her. As though a current of pure energy and it filled the room, almost oppressive in its own gravity. Marie smiled at him, all the hurt that had previously been on her face melting away.

And then, she faced forward, and from his periphery, he could see how her expression hardened, the bloom in her eye starting to fall to pieces, petal after petal coming down as he filtered his magic into her.

He heaved himself up, then, wrapping an arm around her and resting his forehead against her shoulder as he finally let loose, everything inside of him unwinding.

But, unlike before, when he’d released his magic into the cavern blindly, Marie seemed to know just how to alter it so that it shone off of the two of them in waves, the heat almost overwhelming. And Medusa screamed and screamed and screamed as the gravity of their magic seemed to compress her.

Stein could barely keep himself upright as Marie’s now empty eye socket shone and omitted the bright light, and he tucked his face against her neck, hiding himself away as Medusa disintegrated.

When he looked up again, she was nothing more than a mottled, purple soul.

And he collapsed.

* * *

When he woke, it was to sunlight and a warm palm to his cheeks. It was to Marie looking down at him, his head pillowed in her lap, her concerned gaze focused intently on him. When he woke, it was to the outside world, not to any underground cavern that threatened to swallow his bones and keep his body as memento.

His lips cracked open, and he whispered her name, but she only shushed him, stroking his cheek.

“You lost a lot of blood, back there. You probably won’t want to move until the portal is complete and we can go home.”

“Home?” Stein asked, unable to look away from the sunny expression that was Marie’s face, and the woman nodded at him.

“We won, Stein. I told you we were better together.”

“You. . .aren’t hurt?” he asked, his hand shaking as it twitched from his spot on his stomach, wanting to touch her but refraining.

“I mean. . .we both are. But you’re pretty drained.”

“Thought I’d. . .killed you.”

Marie’s expression softened, her thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. “You wouldn’t kill me.”

“I could-“

“You can’t.”

“Thought. . .though my magic would. . .intensify the poison,” he admitted, the fear in his voice as clear as day, and Marie hunched in close to him.

“But it didn’t. You didn’t. I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m here,” she assured, gently jostling him closer to her, her warm glow seeming to engulf him in an aura of tenderness, and he sighed against her, reveling in her heat.

“. . .was worried. . .”

“I know. I’m sorry. I must have scared you,” she said, hunching in even closer.

“I just. . .can’t control it.”

“Yeah.”

“We won?” he asked, still somewhat disoriented.

“I have Medusa’s soul. We’re just waiting for Tezca to complete the portal.”

“Glad I didn’t. . .kill you. . .”

At this, Marie smiled, though it was somewhat strained, and she was already so close to his face that he almost went cross-eyed from trying to keep focused on her. He didn’t realize that he was leaning up to meet her halfway until their noses were almost touching.

“You know, it takes more than that to kill me, Franken.”

“You’re resilient,” he conceded, and he could see how the corners of her eyes crinkled in her happiness.

“You just overthinking things. . .you know, I trust you with my life.”

“That’s a foolish thing. . .to say to a God who takes lives away.”

“Temporary God,” she reminds, grinning playfully, now, but he couldn’t ignore the swelling of joy that she trusted him so much. Slowly, his gloveless hand moved up until it came to the back of her head, gently running his fingers through her hair.

“Marie. . .”

“We did it, Franken,” she whispered, and the relief was palpable through both of them. They were close enough that they were sharing breath, and despite the battles they had just gone through, when she gently said his name, another soft sigh of “Franken”, he couldn’t remember ever feeling better. Not when he was alive. Not after, either.

And when they met in the middle, lips brushing over lips, her hand on his cheek, his hand in her hair, and something so comparable to resonance humming through him, he swore he felt sparks.

**Author's Note:**

> Reverb 2016 is almost over for me! Let me tell you that I struggled with this like you wouldn't believe, but it is finally done! My partner was the FANTASTIC innocentcinnamonbun over on tumblr, found http://innocentcinnamonbun.tumblr.com/! She was a joy to work with, and her art is to DIE for (pardon the pun!) You can check it out here! [link to be provided as soon as it's posted]
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 <3 <3


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